A Lost Descendant

Last time when grandfather was in Sylhet
He was in typical Bengali attire
and while walking on the grubby roads
he caressed the reminiscences, the adorable
past affairs...

He seemed to be an outlander
in the land where he once rooted
but never uprooted his soul-stirring ties,
but rediscovered it despite inwardly
being wounded...

That bloodshed past still blood-stained
when the heart got divided with barbed-wires

Kean bridge was still there being still
with burden of past...
but time could not snatch its beauty
not a trace of corroding and downcast!

The house in which his childhood sprinted,
The past's black-spots freckled the walls
The gladsome reminiscences of bygone days
Afflicted by time's upheaval and now in thrall.

As the tears rolled down his cheeks,
The sky manifested unlighted...
The winds and rain flooded the Surma Valley
But his heart still undivided...

And it was Kalboishaki,
That flooded the plains of
My ancestral land...

by Shayam Chakraborty

Comments (1)

A great start with a nice poem, Shayam. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks