Winter and Fear: Two Perspectives by Gargi Shivanand


Portrait of My Father with Newspaper, Larry Sultan

Winter and Fear: Two Perspectives

This poem is based on how my father's words have helped me overcome the fear of the gloominess that the winter brings

Grasping the last petals of amber the sun has shed,

I hold father’s blessings as I walk into Winter- drawn by a broken thread

She watches me bitterly; the closer I get to her, the more amorphous her shape is

With the remnants of autumn stuffed into the rosewood cages she carries,

Winds dance around her head (like fireflies!) and grow heavier and drier with regret

I walk into the room as a tide walks back into the sea’s fearful depths

The north-east winds blow nonchalantly over the sloping red-tiled roof,

She peers into my room, dragging my being out the window

While the moon rises early, frantically searching for its shadow!

The embers from the roasted green chickpeas fly off like fledglings from a nest

And sellers’ carts weighed down by fresh green bounty,

Buried under the ugly cold, there is a secret beauty

Nippy winds leave the hottest scars,

I look at her and realize she fears me-

Yearning for father's words of succour,

Icy and warm, split and blended like an unlit dawn.

Icy and warm, split and blended like an unlit dawn.

Yearning for father's words of succour,

I look at her and realize she fears me.

Nippy winds leave the hottest scars

Buried under the ugly cold, there is a secret beauty

And sellers’ carts weighed down by fresh green bounty,

The embers from the roasted green chickpeas fly off like fledglings from a nest

While the moon rises early frantically searching for its shadow

She peers into my room, dragging my being out the window!

The north-east winds blow nonchalantly over the sloping red-tiled roof,

I walk into her as a tide walks back into the sea’s fearful depths.

Winds dance around her head (like fireflies!) and grow heavier and drier with regret

With the remnants of autumn stuffed into the rosewood cages she carries,

She watches me bitterly; the closer I get to her, the more amorphous her shape is

I hold father’s blessings and walk into Winter- drawn by a broken thread

Grasping the last petals of amber the sun has shed.


About the poet:

Gargi Shivanand is a researcher and poet based in Hyderabad, India. Her childhood habit of making long to-do lists with quirky notes to self, serendipitously provided her much of the substance to explore poetry. She now writes in Hindi and English, alternating between the two like the sun and moon. Follow her on Instagram @the_kavya_vine to read some of her work.


 

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