Darkness, the old friend, I hear him whispering.
In my hand the torchlight leaps, and shadows
Lap up at the shore. Shadows fade as I thrust the light.
And then, the truant lover, creeps back.
I talk to darkness, the old friend, as mud
And soil cling to my feet. Together we bleed
In buried wounds, scrubbing grudges and anguish.
I talk to darkness, each shade from the lightest gray
To the deepest black, forming a steely loom.
Darkness and I walk together on the earth’s ribs,
Run along its edges, break loose and roll down
To the bottom, posing as dark marbles.
Darkness and I strip off each other’s skin,
Sit down on the nakedness of rocks,
With crumbling faces, like cursed angels.
(Note: An Ekphrastic poem I had written based on a published photograph of my photographer friend Souvik Chakraborty.)
Photo Courtesy: Souvik Chakraborty. This photo of Souvik, titled ‘Dark Horizon’ has been published in the Gallery 36 of Blur Magazine, dated October 2013.
The last two lines make this beautiful, for me
Thanks so much John Anthony Fingleton!
Captivating. Liked a lot!
Thank you Gopal Lahiri sir!
Lopa.
Dark, brooding…but beautifully described.