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Burglary: Silence and the Powerful Language of Unspoken Grief

The twisted window grill
pitied my helplessness;
I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

In the ransacked rooms,
I felt a disrobed privacy
trying to hide its face in vain.

There were clothes and papers.
and treasured memories strewn
on the monotonous floor
like a lover’s scattered loss refusing to be gleaned.

An echo of a shattered silence
gave me a look that had a whiff of whine;
I knew what it wanted to utter
under its breath but didn’t.

The home reeked of intrusion;
My presence wasn’t enough, nor was my hug;
A broken door showed its tears
but I couldn’t shed one.

Picture design by Anumita Roy

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Tirtho Banerjee
A journalist by profession, Tirtho likes to call himself an international citizen. He has travelled across India, and worked in the UAE and Oman as well. Music and nature draw him. Tirtho lives in Noida currently. He has six poetry collections under his belt – the latest being ADRIFT. His poems have been published widely in a number of publications and anthologies.
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