Sunday, May 29, 2016

Lila Ronghang

The old fishermen’s colony
was where Lila listened to waves
roll into her dreams and wake
her up to bright morning skies.

It was from mist covered windows
that she watched men walk
into the mouth of the sea,
throwing in their nets
just as the sun came up.

Salty winds murmured to her

of places she’d never seen.
Glimpses of towns she captured
typing on her Olivetti machine,
the clickety-click sound of it
startling the smoke-filled room.

The backyard of her house was a hideout.
Against moss covered tree trunks,
Shelley and Byron she read
and when her eyes tired out,
ladybugs and tiger lilies she’d pick,
placing them in neatly
folded handkerchiefs.

It seems just like yesterday
when Lila walked through bazaars
just as dusk peeked in.
Markets where beach shacks
glittered against the dark, and candle flames
swayed to the song of the waves.

No one has seen Lila in the past ten years.
Mitali says she now lives in a place
where the soil of the earth
fills her breath, and earthworms
crawl beside her as the night sets in.

*Nominated by Aaduna for the 2016 Pushcart PrizeFirst published in Aaduna in their 2016 Spring Issue.


different angle said...

"... where the soil of the earth
fills her breath,..."
Wow!! i love that...Viva la vida!!!

Prarthana Banikya said...

Thank you, @different angle!

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