Dinesh

Dinesh

Posted on 08/18/2013


Photo taken on October  7, 2007


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Dilip Chitre
Michigan
East Lansing


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Photo replaced on August 18, 2013
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House of my childhood

House of my childhood
The house of my childhood stood empty
On a gray hill
All its furniture gone
Except my grandmother's grindstone
And the brass figurines of her gods.

After the death of all birds
Bird-cries still fill the mind
After the city's erasure
A blur still peoples the air
In the colourless crack that comes before morning
In a place where nobody can sing
Words distribute their silence
Among intricately clustered glyphs

My grandmother's voice shivers on a bare branch
I toddle around the empty house,
Spring and summer are both gone
Leaving an elderly infant
To explore the rooms of age.

"The House of my Childhood" - Dilip Chitre

Comments
pillarboxcottage
pillarboxcottage
Very atmospheric treatment, Dinesh, and a great texture. What a sad poem it is! (Maybe because I'm a relatively new grandmother ...)
4 years ago.
Constance Lowery
Constance Lowery
very nice poem
4 years ago.