One Poem by Debarati Sen

 

Echoes in an Empty Canyon

Raindrops splatter on the blue shade

outside my balcony, scattering dust

like waves washing over sand.

A sudden gust ruffles the potted plants

I gather semi-dry clothes

from the balcony, pile them

on the wooden chair

where you last sat

on a rainy evening,

listening to Md. Rafi.

I inhale the scent of your clothes

as gloom seeps in

through the balcony door,

settles on the wooden chair,

and gazes at me with puffy eyes.

Grief droops my eyelids.

I envy your calmness now—

your indefinite vacation,

how loneliness no longer stirs you,

how you gifted me your share

of solitude wrapped in monochrome.

Suddenly, the smell of burnt rice

breaks my ictus.

I rush to the kitchen, remembering

how you’d scold me

every time I burned the rice.

One last time, I glance

at the blue shade.

The rain has stopped.

I shut the door,

leave the memories waiting outside.

 

Debarati Sen-Recipient of the ‘POIESIS AWARD FOR EXCELLENCE IN POETRY -2023’ and the Sylvia Plath Women's Literary Award, Debarati is a  poet from Kolkata. She has published two solo poetry collections and has contributed to a few anthologies. Her poems have been published in webzines like The Antonym, The Yugen Quest Review, The Kolkata Arts, Lapis Lazuli, The Madras Courier, The Sindh Courier, The Piker Press, Chakkar, Kabitalive, to name a few. She has been invited by Samyukta Poetry and Women Empowered Poetry to read her poems. Debarati has recently been nominated for the prestigious Touchstone Award for her senryu published in the Horror Senryu Journal.