The Half Burnt Toothbrush Poem by Partha Pratim Goswami

Repentance!


Standing another sleepless night
With little safety and solace,
I search a toothbrush-the only one
That too half burnt and
The tube to be cut for paste-the rest.

Oh!
I have nothing for the wound
Poisoning acutely my leg-too fast;
It cannot escape again a riot
The eyes cannot gaze more flames
Flames burning houses into ash and
Turning water dense red.

Sensing the drowse!


Yet I
Smell the odour of my land
Breathe the air and wriggle in sand,
Bath in the flowing stream,
And enjoy some recurring dream-

To be recognized as freeman
To be assimilated into mainland,
With all, who break their bones
Toiling from twilight to dusk and
Night to morn; for the Nation, the one
Which is my own, though, here
I'm a refugee known!

A passionate wish!


I think deep and draw in mind
A flawless intense picture of a world
Without war, deadly fear and domination,
Of one man suppressing the other;
Where there is no boundary of land
And no law to restrict anyone.
Where minds fly and hearts cry
Together for one another.

Then…
I would swab the scar with white cotton,
Resting my mind in a long sleep
I'll wake up again and walk
To form a complete globe-
With the new and the old, all human
Alike-with no difference, not mere
In the look but also with perception
For all now and time to come…