Native Land Poem by shuvo chakraborty

When you are in your native land
Suddenly meeting an uncertain hour of setting winter eventide in clumsy manner,
When the determined darkness striding too fast
Mingles with receding rays of days last sun
That downing over crimson void.
You may hug by smoky charm of unknown flowers.
This is the time to litup cow dung in every stable
This is the time to oversee the hazy cornfield
Where visionless night will sit for dewy showers overtime
Everything appear sightless save the
Known village moon lingering over a tall tree
And reshuffling branches often air rumbling jesture.
Turn your head back and be greeted by a tall shadow
Overfacing a distant bower and with squarely look.
Nothing but a moon lit facade of yon native house
Where thousands silence carpeted lawn
With grassy apron welcoming you along
With handful known faces who are
Known or half known or fully unknown
Bracing earthly pleasures and yearnings
Which are of yeasteryears for them.
Perhaps the dimmed end arrives at earliest when the same moon was foggy.
The lonely house with giant shape
Had yet hear any living steps since the last souls sigh.
The weedy legion battle like combating the last memory.
The air is hush, gathering mists lit the pyre of happy hours
With blushing moonshine.
Your memory fails to gather the last happy rememberance
Your ears invoke an uncanny mistrust about hissing voices of a dearone
Whom thou last saw years ogo in same haunting balcony.
Is it not hapless wonder for you being prohibited
Guest in silent feast of deaths?
Is it not uncommon for you to feel a gathering
Storm of oozing cries of them on whose lap you grown?
This house has seen many happy minutes
Rimmed with golden joys unbound, of marriages
Fest and voices of hundreds guest.
Struggling memories loosen over dissenting pains
Looking for suitable recluse in dead darkness
A solitary owl shrills its presence in kingdom of weariness,
Rendering the house once so living looking absurd.
Footsteps of lost fairies once
Smothered your heart appears living
And thine ancendants with fatherly halos.
Everything gone. Clock struck nine though the night seems eternal
Thou withdraw from sad compound for another world
So vibrant and steaming.