Wind Song by Aparna Sanyal

In through the mullioned windows and doors,
the wind comes traipsing-
Look, she says
at my skirt of leaves!
A sashay, a susurration,
it has a tutus’ delicacy-
Wraithlike, wrapped in wisps,
inconsequential but binding.
And sometimes
it is a gown of velvet and plush ochre,
autumnal in its flow,
riveting in its gaze.
Sometimes the leaves are Pan.
And I dance and dance to
a flute melody for my ears alone.
I wander mist laden, dew embedded
through halls and galleries,
arches and naves,
finding corners to resonate me
with fitting music
and songs of yore.
At night, waxing, waning moon crescents
twinkle through my firmament.
I am in bowls and galaxies too-
Find me, I am all around you.
Hollownesses make me full,
unbound I ruffle your hair-
I am a lovers’ touch
I am a sighs’ despair.
In through mullioned windows
and doors I roam.
Wed to eternity,
to soil and loam.

 

 

An MA from Kings College, London, Aparna is a writer, theatre producer, and award- winning furniture designer. A popular Spoken Word poet, she performs at events across venues in India. Her page poetry has appeared/ is forthcoming in literary journals such as Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, The Visitant, The Same, Leaves of Ink, The Paragon Journal, Duane’s Poetree, A Writer’s Haven Blog, et al. She lives with her 3-year-old son and husband in Pune, India.

Photograph by Wren Tuatha.

Nascence by Aparna Sanyal

All limbs right now,
you feel like a tender grasshopper
A daddy long legs,
lime green, supple, raw;
even your leg rubs are squeaks.
And it feels like the garden mocks
your noise, your silences, even
the pauses you take to exhale.
Your breath is timorous with
fraught expectations. Your disappointments have turned the bush
you hide in,
to a nut- brown shade;
with leaves of crimson, that blush
your growing pangs away.
Each day these leaves fall, litter the ground in tear shapes and we,
who bend to sweep,
weep at their fallen grace.
You’re a creature that sleeps the
day away, unless awakened,
and comes out to play with
curly lashed smiles at night.
In the safety of darknesses and corners you’ve
carefully spun, you reveal your shades-
shy librettos and candied tenors,
tender contraltos that melt away like
treacle.
You allow lightning quick glimpses of your soul between gulps and nervous titters,
then hop away to hide
and build
for the coming day.
Such exquisiteness you have, such
tender vividity, it bleaches my soul
with its incandescence.
But you cannot see it.
Not yet.
For that, you have to wait.
Your time is nascent-
It waits with me, eagerly counts down,
to your
eventual unfurling.

 

 

An MA from Kings College, London, Aparna Sanyal is a writer, theatre producer, and award- winning furniture designer. A popular Spoken Word poet, she performs at events across venues in India. Her page poetry has appeared/ is forthcoming in literary journals such as Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, The Visitant, The Same, Leaves of Ink, The Paragon Journal, Duane’s Poetree, A Writer’s Haven Blog, et al. She lives with her 3-year-old son and husband in Pune, India.