Confessions Of A War Widow
Here is the confession
Of the crystalline tears
Two beads on the cheeks
Once so transparent but now dusky and hazy
From the cataract eyes of a war widow
Her stretched skin
Bulging red eyes;
Arched spine
Fixed on the visible tombstone
Of her beloved, a soldier
Whose body returned with a wrapped flag
Now she is splattered
Like her bangles and vermillion
Burning like a solitary pyre
How ruthlessly she is stuck
In that monsoon
Waits for every knock of the door
Talking to herself
The planning that they will execute
In the next four years
A rooftop room to romance
with the dazzling stars
A tractor to till extra piece of land
She a marble statue now
Once resonating with joy
in the Baisakhi
She met her lover;
A stalwart brave tall man
They danced with the rhythm of Nagara
sang the songs of the streams
passion, music and lucent fountain
prayers answered;
the introspections sprout
as she weaves her chunri
all those colours blurred now
Only the sperm of her beloved
inside her womb
and a heap of memory
May be the child will arrange the palette
Glorify the sequences in ascending order
The tears confess today....
Life lives in memories
The tiny dot of time
Rises like the Sun of the dawn
Every loss is a gain..
May be for a nation if not for her.....
For here her husband lies in the cemetery to give your life ...........
Confession Of
A Posthumously Born Child
Here I keep my confession
On the carpet of the grass
I am the posthumously born boy
Never seen my papa
Who was shot on the war field
I have saved all my demands
Stored in my rib cage
If at all once you can return papa
I will go round the village
Hopping and hopping
To show them with pride
Never I will listen to the whispers
“Poor boy! He has never seen his father!’’
Like an arrow it pierces my heart into segments
I will scream
Lo! Behold my father is alive
In silent nights
I feel your warm kiss on my forehead
I imagine, I presume
You buying me the red bicycle
Playing badminton on the courtyard
Racing the cycle with you
on the twisted village road
You may be invisible
But your existence is here or there
May be with the birthday cake
May be in the smell of the hair of mama
Maybe you reflect in her tears
May be when we eat the mangoes
Celebrate Diwali or Holi
May be in silent nights
when we both cry hiding each other
Yes papa, mama is brave
Perhaps she is
braver than you.
But yes, we do miss
those golden moments of life
Every loss is a loss
And every gain is a gain papa
For me only for me....
I miss you a lot.....
Yes, I miss you....
Confession Of A Bullet
This is a confession
That I am keeping on note
I am a bullet
That hit the chest
Of the tall soldier
Alas! I cry today
I feel the sorrow of the war widow
The bleeding of her eyes
Oh! No, she was vibrant
A bubbling flower of the valley
The melody of peace and love
In the green fields
Their clapping echoes
Here I confess my sin
I am a bullet, a killer
Lord! Please never forgive me
Let me be the last bullet
Every gain is a loss.....
For someone or the other
Here or there
In this village or in that city
A single bullet is the blood map
Of the globe
Visible or invisible.....
Here or there.....
No more no more,……
Enough is enough
SWAPNA BEHERA: Swapna Behera is a trilingual poet, translator, environmentalist, editor, from Odisha and author of seven books of different genres including one on children’s literature on Environment. She is the recipient of International UGADI AWARD 2019, honoured from Gujurat Sahitya Akademi 2022,2021International Poesis Award of Honor as Jury, Pentasi B World Fellow Poet, Honoured Poet of India from Seychelles Government and International awards from Algeria, Morocco, Kajhakhstan, modern Arabic Literary Renaissance of Egypt, International Arts Council Argentina etc. Her stories, poems, articles are published in many International and National magazines and ezines. Her poem A NIGHT IN THE REFUGEE CAMP is translated into 67 languages. She has bagged 60 National and International Awards. At present She is the Cultural Ambassador for India and South Asia of Inner Child and the life member of Odisha Environmental Society
Confessions 