A Bare Day

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.




He lives with his family in Bhubaneswar, India.


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