poetry

And then finally when night stood still, an evening, its reign of suntrance years, of wealth, wilderness and glory of many campaigns left in a river of subterfuge, its long sinewy columns rolled down the glitter in a night borderless on stealth and stubbornness. I have been living years of such understanding, that one day in a cover of duress and despair, time might conclude a hasty retreat, its tiny droplets may not even join and sections of unrepaired horizons would differ as nights and evenings revise a no dissolving pact. The Volga at Tatarstan had refused time and again of curtailing the living with the living, different voices share a confluence of similar strengths, Tartar warriors stood on banks stretching to sea and the sea to many a skies holding aloft such spoken memories such relived lives. I had even forgiven you, you who once called upon words to reopen old forgotten closures. In an ageless complete, you are the reversal, you remain the scroll, and you are the substrate of my many lives.

Amitabh Mitra

From: Stranger than a Sun, Poems and Drawings -Collection of Prose poems and Drawings

Amitabh Mitra is a visual artist, poet and a medical doctor based in East London South Africa. He heads the Department of Emergency Medicine at a hospital in the township of Mdantsane. Stranger than a Sun is a semiautobiographical collection of prose poems and drawings.

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