Chittaranjan Dash, Delhi, 14 January 2024
So much change in
Our blood, soul, season and gutter
Then we converge naked like statues
Helpless melting mass of history
Then in a dark womb of the room we cry
So much pain in our limbs and hearts
Yet yet the sky bathes us in pure light of stars
Our eyes swelling up at death of young leaves
Stillborn names roam around our walls
Some dreams are yet to be conceived
We clasp each other’s hands
And seek death in each other’s eyes
Dreaming of an unborn dream
