By Ekasmayi Naresh
Picture Source: Sarbani Ghosh
The calendar struck out,
days gathered dust,
and time lost its timeless clout.
A viral verdict,
gave this year of endured anticipation,
an unimaginable life sentence –
imprisoned a fluid future to the cold store,
relegated life to the captivity
of domestic inhabitation.
Nothing was the same,
but it was as etherised as expected;
cyclical sequences played out in unending succession,
sickened souls left embittered by the stagnation,
showcasing a clotted consciousness,
and a sanity rendered scrambled.
With the walls closing in,
this summer’s story
desperately awaited a sudden spin:
learning to breathe again –
these baby steps buoyed life,
in this drowning stillness of pain.
Taking a cue from nature’s spirit,
which was now having its day in the sun,
relentlessly rejuvenating
after a decades’ long dry run.
A semblance of the sprouting self
began to show;
denying the imposed incarceration
its sadistic satisfaction,
daring instead to see
this self-proclaimed acquittal,
not as time to be served
but as a period in which to grow.
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