Sudhansu portrays the agony of a woman, in this poem, exclusively for Different Truths.

The looks are plastic enough to trust the sounds
But sweeter emotions of gentle blood flowing in her vain
Passions have grown accustomed to the narrow eyes
And the cracked cheeks.
Insults are heaped upon her to glorify the pains
She has turned the years again
To call those exiles of the past
The unquiet wonderer has no disgrace upon the enemy
Who have plundered all her grace
In an unknown earth.
The wavy hair has maddened so many sophisticated beasts
Hiding under the human garment.
A terrible beauty is born from her dried bone marrow
In its loneliness and pain
To gather the head till the dust has stopped the ears.
It is time for her to taste the salty breath
And listen the corner
That has yet not come.
Enough of sorrow she has before death
To have a conversation among the bones of her body.
No figure can push away the feathered glory
Of the bird of the day
That dares to forget the delight.

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