Look at these tantalising equations of life-
Wrongly enough the heart sends the right signals,
then are interpreted altogether wrong.
Let’s give these grey areas benefits of doubt.
Reclaim, reload, scrub off the deep stains,
the deep scars, the ancient wounds:
wounds that have witch-hunted you all along,
as these have exposed you to elemental basics.
I didn’t sit here to brood over things that hold me back.
I’m rather here so sing that pleasant note,
that slow murmur of the release of river Xanadu
that gives life to the Silk Road,
happy to see endless summers by the salt lakes
and dye the flamingos pink.
I’m here now to play my tambourine,
sob for the golden reed that I’ve lost in Kalboishakhi..
Ah! my reed, you are what you are not –
Pent up emotion, my horse in full gallop.
It is now time to sing my queer summer song,
music of rustling whirling winds with loaded clouds
and greyness unbound.
My reed, I’m not here to ask for a different background,
I don’t need a different beginning.
Bipasha Haque is a diaspora writer with particular interest in life-the way it is. By profession she is a university teacher