Leaving Home

by

Tiyasha Chaudhury

The windows churn the sunlight

They provide only bleakness

Every filtered thing is poisoned

Every made thing is cursed


Here are the truths I state as verses

Do they spark bewilderment?


The boxes were full of her clothes,

They ate the jewelry that my mother never wore,

They kept the torn sarees warm,

But I didn't take them with me.


Without a body, leaving a space sounds unholy

Without a body, possessions aren't possessions

Anymore.


I left the boxes

They are in the hall room

On the piece of the floor where my mother was to turn into ash


How can I take the belongings away from a place

That has carried her air?

Tiyasha Chaudhury is a listed reviewer of major Global Publishing houses. An ardent reader of poetry; exploring Russian and German literature with peak interest. Two of her extended reviews have been published in the October Issue and March Issue of Kloud Nine Magazine whose chief editor is Ruskin Bond. She can be reached at @tiyashachaudhuryreads on Instagram.

 Tiyasha Chaudhury
Tiyasha Chaudhury
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