The Concept called Loss

By: Ruvindra Sathsarani

Photo by Nur Yilmaz on Pexels.com

The darkness, sings
Occasional chimes
of how you cannot
with the saving of
his soul, and it isn’t
to wave your hand in
air and tell
the world how
an explosion
somewhere else
was staged, stamped
and launched, in seconds,
and reason out
there were few drops
of blood
on your palms.

Oh love! Your face
to that exactness
which I tried
to forget
of things and thoughts
made of
displayed on
yellow-lit windows.

Your thoughts
in syllables
Making dust lines
On the windowsill
I cannot wipe them
their mirth
rings and echoes
inside my brain
that wavelength
of discovering,
the senses leaving
your body.

As you try hard to restore
The concept
Originality was a mistaken concept
But where is the past?


Ruvindra Sathsarani is a postgraduate student of English Literature currently living in  Tübingen, Germany. Her poetry has been published previously on Eastlit and Primrose Road Poetry July Scents. 

Categories: Poetry

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