on this night
on this night rustling like prairie grass I sit owl-perched on my window a familiar book in hand I read the last poem over and over until its lines become a prayer I read this poem that I've returned to everytime days have shut like coffin doors and then for the briefest of flashes like a candle before its hushed out the poem becomes a mirror. I see the poet reflected just like me - owl perched on their window sill I know the poet's hands veined by light have traced these words just like mine I know then these coffin days have come and gone in another's life I know we don't share a homeland or even the same century but I know that their heart like mine bursts with song I know the poet in these most fleeting seconds I know the poet like I know my name raabta.
About the poet:
Parth Lakhani is a twenty year old student-poet from Bangalore, India He is deeply interested in postcolonial research and education. In his poems, he tries to de-familiarize the everyday and bring closer what is distant and strange. He can be found sitting in balcony thinking about the Agha Shahid Ali line - "they make a desolation and call it peace."