pulsing, under ice by Namratha Varadharajan


Photo by Umbo (Otto Umbehr)

pulsing, under ice


in one fell swoop

outside

is a forbidden land.

icy winds nonchalantly blow death around, life

a piece of translucent plastic caught in the draft.

windows close themselves. eight seasons of winter.

stagnant breath. do hide

in a cosy corner. unlearn,

relearn to keep warm.

weave a cocoon, make some tea.

be seed. munch/mulch dead leaves. stay buried.

in the stillness, through the numb,

stitch a few feathers together,

prod through the hard dry crust,

inch your way to the water table

far below.

uncertain shoot. biting frosts.

chewed off toes, iffy sun. some hearts still thump.

wide wings in narrow alleys. birds perch

on leafless trees. Leafless trees

(still) breathe. dreams

continue to spring.


About the poet:

Namratha Varadharajan writes to explore emotions, relationships and our interconnectedness with nature while trying to chip at the prejudices that plague us, one syllable at a time. She is the co-founder of Soul Craft Poetry Workshops. Her poetry and short stories are published or forthcoming in Gulmohar Quarterly, The Kali Project, Tea with a Drop of Honey, #Love and more. She writes at http://namysaysso.com. Instagram handle: @thesoftvoice

 

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