Difference
First, you wondered: why I could not have a shorter name,
Like John or Daniel.
Then you asked about the strange tongue I spoke,
(I was talking to my mother- she loves the old way)
Then you looked at me- my ebony skin, my body, for a mirror.
And found nothing that spoke back
To who you are, or how you would like to be,
How we read leaves, sun or rain.
When I turned up at your door, the day
Your mother died
There were no words but silence kept us warm.
That hug beyond white and black, us and them.
We were looking for something to say,
But nothing made us say it.
The sadness spread its thin fingers, looking for a hand
The hand would not go away for want of colour.
Amlanjyoti Goswami‘s recent collection of poems ‘River Wedding’ (Poetrywala) has been widely reviewed. His poetry has been published in journals and anthologies around the world. His poems have also appeared on street walls in Christchurch, exhibitions in Johannesburg, an e-gallery in Brighton and buses in Philadelphia. He has read in various places, including New York, Delhi and Boston. He grew up in Guwahati, Assam and lives in Delhi.
