It’s the corner for life’s un-shapable spaces when another layer flows and leaves its traces. It’s the amalgam that forms when surrender meets rebellion white turns into red, red into vermillion. A burial ground for frustrations and defeat A whorehouse, where rehab escapees retreat And for the poisoned, tainted as they go It is the river Ganges , where blue bodies flow. For those with open and suspended hearts, it’s the miracle garden where regeneration starts. Love’s first glance in a purple oasis, desire’s first stop an empty week’s catharsis. ~Proma
Articles, Poetry and Short Stories by Proma Ray.