AMANITA SEN

 

 

Unseen Flowers

 

And I would think for the longest time

what were these flowers worth

blooming hidden under the leaves,

with no eyes lit by admiration.

 

They wouldn’t make it to the bouquet

to make the florist smile after the sale,

nor to the lover’s hands evoking a shy

smile, nor at the feet of the Goddess.

 

Of what worth is the display of colours,

the unassuming fragrance, holding

a moment, then letting it pass,

of its quiet being, until it cannot be.

 

Until I knew,

its worth lay in just to be.

 

The Troubled Times

 

Then there are days when nothing

seems to piece you back to whole.

 

The show around the word democracy

feels fake, eating the pulp around

the kernel of your trust.

 

No one offers you consolation in

these post-truth times

and the cities razed to ground

in far-off lands, keep you awake.

 

You are standing by the griefs

of displacement, homelessness,

deaths of those innocents

with a sting in your eyes.

 

Nothing feels fair, just or worth the time.

It is then the dead parents come in handy.

“Baba, how do I make sense of

all the collective wrongs,” I ask.

 

The air suddenly feels cooler

like it is raining peace distantly.

 

AMANITA SEN

 

AMANITA SEN is the author of 3 books of poetry. She is a mental health professional, living in Kolkata.