Deeya’s powerful poem navigates the harrowing journey from trauma and exploitation to a spiritual, resilient rebirth using vivid elemental imagery for Different Truths.
Like a ritual, almost
I bleed every other day
reminding me of the holocaust I escaped
Death, a richer, unluckily, didn't happen
the way I wanted
I float hence lifeless, on salinity
I harvested. For ages, my fecundity was lost.
I reaped the follies of flesh without choice.
Like hymns, a sort of ritual every day,
I am offered to fire.
My flesh ripe as barbecue
I manage to live with eyes of stone.
A lotus in bloom.
I am long gone. The Spring's
a mimicry of felicity.
A few silver hairs flutter like prayer flags
On cornerstones pledging my death.
My defeat, syllables like in the fresh air
filled with the sweet smell of Roses
testifies my presence, no more
I am the Transformed One
The Rose that blooms on Christmas Eve.
Every year. Each night.
The Night of the Star.
Picture design by Anumita Roy
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Escaping from holocaust,
Bloom like a rose
Casting away the hollowness
Is like humming a hymn of glorified aliveness.
Brilliant Poetry assures of Hope by Poetess Deeya Bhattacharya