National

Poem | Confessions of Time

A poem about the haunting, lyrical tragic post-human landscape of war, when time itself confesses humanity바카라™s recurring betrayals, but no one listens

Representational Picture
Representational Picture Photo: Getty
info_icon

Why does smoke rise from the land?
I dream 바카라” I am peeling charred manuscripts
in a ruined library,
and philosophers of my age,
grinding sunflower seeds in the prison.

Suffering is a strange story 바카라”
where does it begin, where does it end?
Can we grasp past or future,
or is war just a confession of time?

Isn바카라™t it strange 바카라”
people fleeing ancient cities
as if they are abandoning crowded cinema halls?
Not sure how I escaped into discarded bathtubs,
stitching torn permits for diamond mines in the mountain.

Smoke again rises from the land 바카라”
she is naked in a bullet-pierced motel,
 and licks salt from my collarbone,
and murmurs,
바카라œgod is a drunk old lover,
he forgets my name by morning.바카라

Is this what it means to survive history 바카라”
to kiss in sacred bomb shelters,
to turn love into a ritual of betrayal?

I am riding a mule and reading Camus바카라™s Stranger 바카라”
somewhere, a bird refuses to migrate, and
 time slowly melts into the dark throat of memory.

About the Poet

Ashwani Kumar is a poet, political scientist and professor in Mumbai. His most recent collection of poems is titled바카라ŻMap of Memories.

×