This Winter Time... Poem by Ananya Guha

The wind is a holocaust
Memory seems mired
in spate of doubt
How many winters do we traverse
with the wind's reminder
and, darkness
Scalding nights will know
Dogs will know

This winter will it be different
as your eyes refuse recognition of the past
Is life light as you lie buried
in interiors of the self?
How I wish I were like you,
my friend, as this desire to search
is another moribund quest
Only poetry in this winter time
Can answer, stamped with
skeleton marks.