by Anjali Paul
Sunset in Tatopani
The boy who led me here reminds me of him but he has a different face;
his bones were sculpted in this other time and place,
where each day the windsong hymns the sun
through mountains carved like cathedrals, each one
a glory of snow-blue, terracotta, dove-green, ochre and dun,
and beetles bearing sacred symbols drawn on vermilion in black and gold
traverse these rocky roads paved with broken silver like slivers of stories as yet untold.
And
when we parted
I thought perhaps his image would be burned
over the one for which I had sometimes yearned,
yet when I close my eyes it is only the plains and mountains that I see
fragrant with many-hued blooms of memory....
And
their beauty haunts me.
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Anjali Paul is of Indian origin. She was born in India and went to the U.K. at the age of nine, after having lived in several other countries. She grew up in the U.K.
Last updated April 23, 2015