For the last time
Brown bucket filled to the brim with
Concoction of starch water
Tea sediments, shallot skin and egg shells.
The balcony garden of sprawling, tentacled
Thorned, budded, browning-at-the-edges
And half-blossomed immigrants
Eagerly await their daily feeding.
Who is to tell them
That from this day onwards
Nothing of our tiled balcony except
For the pigeon-net will stay?
That for the master of the house
From seven floors up high
A clear view of the city matters more?
That although helpless
I know what it feels like
To be brutally snipped and uprooted away
From home to home
For the last time
How can I apologise
To my godly greens
For not owning a piece of this earth
And gifting them with a fate
To rise and breathe steadily at least?
Sharanya B lives in Trivandrum and has written poems published by Madras Courier, Poetry Society of India and other magazines. She was awarded fifth place in the Rabindranath Tagore International Poetry Competition 2022.
Featured image: Aleksandra Sapozhnikova / Unsplash