by Bibhu Padhi (August 2015)
The mind likes to wander among
younger things. It hasn’t grown old
over thinking things thrown all over
time and space, like seeds.
Even today, it goes back so easily
through forty years only to locate
precisely the place where you left your body,
exposed to my eyes’ innocence and poverty,
the time that simply didn’t exist for me.
The sea falls through the night’s privacy,
into a pair of sleepless ears, reminding me
of how far I have come from you
to the midst of my children and wife.
The house is built with such care
is divided, almost falling into gossip
and a pain that has grown over the years
to take off its cement and bricks,
its once-fine, breezy interiors.
The mind, alert as ever, asks questions
through the sea’s early morning ebb and flow.
Father: why did you have to leave so early?
Why did you have a body and a name at all?
Bibhu Padhi's tenth book of poems, Midnight Diary, has just been published. He lives with his family in Bhubaneswar, India.
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