Poetry – Anshuparni Biswas

Tale of cry

The cry started in the cradle –
The tear dried under the coffin.
Time faded the howling,
Dusty bookshelf stood alone.

All the educated mouths distributing knowledge throughout the day,
Stiched self lips, when found other side of the locked room.
Leather belts too served dual purpose like the character,
Sulky mind now finds no attractiveness in the wounded body.

Painful bleeding never disrupted filling tiffin boxes,
But it assured half portion of the bed to be empty.
Late night jobs named one gender hardworking and the other characterless?
At the end of the day once again priority and choice collide together.

When she will die-
Everyone will cry.
Survival of the fittest session has expired-
With the beginning of a new formation.

Temporary hashtags are flooded-
Warmth of the candle is again enlighten.
Again the twenty-six year is burnt alive,
Again the eight month and eighty year are raped together,
Again the thirty-two has committed suicide.
And maybe, the criminal is standing somewhere behind us.

The cry started in the cradle-
The tear dried under the coffin.