a weekly of fantastical poetry





Sita, Leaving

by Maya Chhabra


I walked through fire for you
Unburned, while each precise step
Recalled the year's captivity: close about me
The fatal rush of heat, the violent wind
And I a small frightened void who must
Not scurry through with stolen speed
But seem as pure and regal as you knew me,
And as I am, and as you know me still.
 
Do not pity me. I think I once or twice
Have known such joy that the bare memory
Bends me like Shiva's bow in your hands
Cools my seared spirit like the shade
In our forest exile, where no slander followed us.
 
It is only that I am weary. Insensate, loving,
I shall kiss you as the flesh of summer fruit
Torn between your teeth; your unknowing feet
Will tread me as silk grass in scorching summer.
 
I will do you good, and feel not the offense.



September 23rd, 2016



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