Poetry by Snehashree Mandal
The portraits fell out of the crests,
they once adorned. The room had
nothing to call my own, except the
winds. Tears fell on my doorway
where laughter once squealed.
I tried, tried in vain all these years,
to hope, gape & shape a future.
I cannot even say, one grain my own,
though I grasped tightly my palm
all this while.
That bitter pain healed me strangely
as I thought I sat to mourn.
It brought me peace, quite unknown
to my sanctum, once where
raged the storm and tide,
once where flowed the void wide.
About the Poet
I am Snehashree Mandal, a woman of colour from India. After ten years of work, I decided I needed change. I began taking poetry more seriously, and my work has since been published in Spillwords, FemAsia magazine, and The International Poetry Digest (the latter two are forthcoming). You can read more on my blog.