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Between Bomb Blasts
A Poem by:

Shimanta Bhattacharyya


Copyright shall at all times remain vested in the Author. No part of the work shall be used, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the Author's express written consent.

After the explosion, the silence blithely

Resurrects itself. There is no report of casualties.

People are so used to being blown to bits these days:

Prayers shiver down sodden wicks on Divali*.

The silence is a piece of wafer. All huddle around it–

Afraid to eat of it. It isn't strange that deep in the ghettoes

Somebody should prick his ears– above the muezzin's call–

To plumb the soundness of the silence.

The sky is rigged with booby traps. Nobody mentions

Death by lightning. Natural occurrences are rare:

In life as much as in death. So long as the silence lasts

There is no cause for panic.

(*The Festival of Lights that is celebrated throughout India by lighting lamps and bursting crackers.)


Shimanta Bhattacharyya
Copyright © 2007

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