Hand 2 Poem by Pradip Saikia

Someone is unpeeling the yellow peels of the orange
With low murmurs

But
Only a hand's length
Hand that can't be seen

A leaf of a fragrant grass at the gaps of the fingers
Only a smoggy hand's length

To make cinders fly in the town
A matchbox is growling
In someone's fist

Someone's bloodstains on the white cloths

In the homeless shadow of the canopy
A live cruel hand
Unseen

The time required to make a flute
To engulf the earth in the darkness
To make a flower fall down after blooming
The same period of time

In the half done stone scriptures
Written from right hand side
Someone's orange peeling hand

In the pocket of the coat
In the deep waters
Fire igniting
A frantic hand

# Translated from Assamese to English by: Bibekananda Chowdhury