POETRY

Moonlit Musings in Storm’s Embrace

Flickering Sparks and Sepia Dreams

The drunken seagull meanders over the stormy sea-gods, on my doorstep, the lone hue of moonlight pushes through, as I try to sleep, hearing the constellations far, far above anything, trying to find that tool for my dreamy consciousness in space, but then, I wake up with a jolt.

The train has stopped, somewhere out in the field, sepia-tinted sparks of light flicker from a town nearby, a man, deep in slumber, has awoken, but shall he remember, he was there, looking at the motionless train engine from his window, earnestly, when he returns back to sleep? with a fiery storm brewing, a patchy moonlight for company?

Moths and fireflies settle on the window panes, small telegrams from around the world, breathing, blinking, breathing, blinking.

A mysterious, dark, big banyan tree, kept patting the compartments, teeming with people, wondering, wandering amidst nature’s fury, the rain intensifies, and the tree starts walking around the train, moving past that half-dreamy face on the window, what does it want, perhaps, to pick up sprouting life amidst the rain, caress them, nurture them, keep them somewhere safe, help them grow, before the fluffy snowflakes suck the life out of them.

The storm puts its lips to my house, to my soul, blows with all its might, I sleep peacefully now, not remembering anything, I know, at night, the houses are awake, as humans sleep, they make melodramatic sounds, requesting the storm to stop, requesting them to play someplace else, not here, not here, trying hard to hold the walls together, lest the storm might blow everything inside us, away.

The lone hue of the moonlight is not there now, instead, a quilt of white moonlight kisses my windows, I sleep peacefully, my house, keeps smiling.

Somsubhra Banerjee,2023