The Hand, Unidentified. Poem by Binayakumar Mohanty

Many many years ago
a hand so soft, so loving
patted on my back
I do remember
as if
blood in my veins
started flowing
at the speed of
billion light years.

The same hand no different
but I see the nails grown
odd and uncut in the fingers.


The radiant ring in the inominate
can not I recall back
for which
I have set fire
in the room
dark and unidentified
all the belongings
are no more precious
than pebbles on the deserted shore.

Amidst chaos confusion
somebody gathers
the fodder left over
by the cattle.

Was it that hand?
Let me see it again.