A New Calendar Year, January 2018 Poem by Ananta Madhavan

The last day of the year has sunk into the past tense
And segued into the new calendar year
Without seam or cusp or chapter end,
In the interpreted singularity
Of our plural lives.

No boundary walls or barbed wire fences,
No immigration queues, customs check,
No speeded orbits of the carousal belt
With luggage every passenger has to junk.

In this newfound country of the purblind,
I know the familiar weariness of routine
And a fleeting Esperance that the voyage
Must continue until arrival some-when.




And a fleeting Esperance that the voyage
Must continue until arrival some-when.








In this newfound country of the purblind,
I know the familiar weariness of routine
And a fleeting Esperance that the voyage
Must continue until arrival some-when.