Two Poems by Sonali Chanda

Truth lies somewhere between the  spheres of shadow and light, wrapped in a fine cloth that
I don’t want to pull out,
truth is buried deep
under the black
sheathing now,
it is hard when
truth hits the
it smiles when it flows on the surface, staying calm.Truth you hide in your pocket sleeps without ire, it watches the falsity grows everywhere and spread
 its limbs, often silence speaks
the language of truth,
 silence that is not
“silence speaks loud”
they say,

silence can’t be heard in mess, often silence pierces in its own quake.

Truth traverses beneath the seas

and ocean, I see its journey
through seven layers of
rainbow, silence holds
the truth in its bosom softly,
 there’s no vacant space
for the one which

is not true.

Sonali Chanda

Silence in love isn’t so easy go,
I see the butterflies rise in love
from the womb of truth,

silhouette of silence
hardly can be seen,
it shows the way
how  it speaks

about good & evil.

I see you as the answer to my

one question,
I see you speaking in your
magnetic silence,
Truth is there I can listen in you,
Some silence speaks the truth without hushing a word,
That silence has it’s best
voice when it comes

from you.

I choose to stay silent, my silence uses the words that’s hardly

listened to all, not all the
 doors are meant to
welcome all, not all
the words are
meant for all.
Home Coming!
As far as I could see the coastal lines,
       As if it was lying unbound,
      waiting for some moisture,
As if the broken moonlight
        was arranged by the silhouettes
                      of the fragmented ribs
     of the waves, that lost their motion.
     Some broken fragments,
           some broken memories,
Some broken pieces
                               of inevitable injuries,
      It  was a certain time,
all they were broken,
      But how pity to see, they couldn’t construct an entity, complete!
Though in the coastal lines,
  I could see the sheer betrayal,
Betrayal of gravity, betrayal throttled them to detached from the shore, motionless they lied,
They were scattered around,
     And the residues
            were lying paralysed.
A tenderness,
         some softness were there
             in their slowly coming,
close towards the shore and then broke apart.
      I could see their approaching
     towards the motionless littoral,
They’ve travelled lot, they’ve struggled
     for their pleasant arrival.
            Those hours,  which waited for a complete yarn,
broken they’re, now are waiting,
                  for a sweet desolation!
  Though we labelled them as the
      saddest seas and oceans, which dried up under the bed of vast drought land.
  Still the shore which lied awake,
for few hours,
     Holding the shells and conch-shells,
    Leaving their stretches
                     over the shore chest!
  After a thousand desolation, they reach the shore, as if after a pretty long term, they’re back from the abroad to their home, like touching the feet of mother’s, a serene pleasure fills in their whole gesture.
        Where the tiny frames of waves roll down to the sands,
they stop for a while and inhale
              the fragrance of
coriander cologne!


Sonali Chanda

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