By Manash Bhattacharjee
I learnt from your poems how
To wait upon death
And how waiting is a game as
Treacherous as death.
I learnt from you how the root
Of waiting is grasped in despair
And that there is no despair
More deceitful than hope.
Waiting helped you gather those
Roses along the way
Which grow only for travellers
Who walk the loneliest road.
You kept those roses as mementos
Of your nights when gunshots
Would remind you of the difficulty
To make love under the moon.
As you carried the landscape on
Your shoulders and looked
For your address in the clouds
The enemy laughed.
They thought you will grow weary
From repeating the same lines of loss
But they didn’t know those without a home
Are always hungry for memory.
– Manash Bhattacharjee is a poet, writer and scholar from New Delhi, India. He contributed this poem to PalestineChronicle.com.