Wound

BY ANANYA S GUHA

I have seen mists

of colours but hues

always bring memories

even when these pine clad

hills are sleeping

and many waiting to be born.

Stop, pause

there is a song everywhere

even rag pickers listen

and these aerodyne slopes

of mountains.

I pick up the pen

and scribble on wounds.

Who says memories are old

they rejuvenate in every pausing

moment and a flower escapes hurt.
A wound.

Out there guns are firing

threatening dreams in cascade

of fire. Burn Ukraine burn

I will lift mists from your eyes

tears draped in greyish sadness.

Ananya S Guha

Ananya S Guha

Ananya S Guha works in the Indira Gandhi National Open University, Shillong (Meghalaya) as an Academic Administrator. He has over 30 years of teaching and administrative experience. He has six collections of poetry and his forms have been published world wide. Some of his poems are due to appear soon in an Anthology of Indian Poetry in English to be published by Harper Collins.