Someone Else’s Song

A Poem by Kamala Das

I am a million, million people

Talking all at once, with voices

Raised in clamour, like maids

At village-wells.

 

I am a million, million deaths

ox-clustered, each a drying seed

Someday to be shed, to grow for

Someone else, a memory.

 

I am a million, million births

Flushed with triumphant blood, each a growing

Thing that thrusts its long-nailed hands

To scar the hollow air.

 

I am a million, million silences

Strung like crystal beads

Onto someone else’s

Song.

P.S: I have posted this poem here for those students studying Das and have difficulty in finding her poetry.🙂

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Filed under Indian, Poetry

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