by Bibhu Padhi (July 2016)
The last sleep was long.
Was it sleep at all?
A mere drama of rest
that lasted for as long as
I wished it to until
I could find the answer
I was after, the difficult
answer to all that I
prayed for but never wished?
I never knew which face
was right and proper,
so my prayers would be
answered in a moment’s
illumination. It was only
despair, needing sleep
and rest, with no questions
asked, no wish settled
for anything less than
a voice that could be
identified as his or hers.
All the time I wondered
if a line could be uttered
from a place that I was
not quite sure of—
a voice that was meant
for my ear, soft and clear
as the first sun, its accent
somewhat like the one
I knew from the day
I heard it fantastically near.
___________________________
Bibhu Padhi’s tenth book of poems, Midnight Diary, has just been published. He lives with his family in Bhubaneswar, India.
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