Birdsong charts griefs geometry: transnational exile and profound yearning, mapping memorys borderlands onto a vibrant campus.
What I’ll miss most about home as I leave Kolkata this spring: Read Single →
A pair of starlings
squat on a leafy branch of
the Kadam tree opposite our verandah.
A furry friend jumps off our terrace
and squirrels past my arms, placid against
balcony railings. Sometimes a couple red-hooded peckers
or green pigeons join their baithak. A crow burrows
leaves and bones in the hollow of our
bedroom skylight. I run to inform Maa
about the trespassing, almost forgetful that
these are only reminders of the lone Ashok tree
waiting at the entrance of our gully in
North Delhi, posed as a landmark
for delivery guys and acquaintances
on their
quest to
locate
my nest.
bird song ~
a dash of hope in
my empty heart
first rain,
trembling green…
new love blossoms
beyond the borders, my homeland
winter rain…
the geometry of grief
on your sleeping face
school after long—
a bunch of flowers
for her teacher
Shamayita Sen is a Delhi based poet and PhD research scholar (Department of English, University of Delhi). She is the author/editor of three poetry collections, most recently of My Body is Not a Vessel (Hawakal, 2022). Her research articles, book reviews, and poetry has appeared in various national and international avenues. She is the National Vice-President of Literary Arts Council, WICCI.
