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SEA DREAMS 2
by Bibhu Padhi On full-moon nights the breeze travels far below the blue-dark water, reaches those places where conch-shells sing through sea weeds. For a moment, it watches the dry rusty bones of the ships that sailed to carry our friends. to prosperous islands several centuries ago. Then it moves mutely, above the vast sea-bed, stopping near every wish and dream that we had allowed so hopefully to sink into the sea's sacred depths. Suddenly it rises into the sheer moonlight, and then moves toward our waiting shores, its body soaked in blue ancient rumours. |
BEACH by Frank Dixon Graham |
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SEA DREAMS 3
by Bibhu Padhi Sitting inside the house that remains haunted all through the year by marine decay and words of forgotten mouths, I think of you. You arrive, well-known guest, and every loose brick shakes at your touch, the walls. Listen intently to the self-same message of loss that we have been carrying all these years. I watch you walk quietly from one small room to another, whisper things into my ears and disappear along the frozen pillars. But your absence stays— near my son's small mouth, all about his slightly afraid, questioning eyes. |
WAVE by Rosario Romero |
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SEA DREAMS 4
by Bibhu Padhi Long before the night has ended and the crows have started waking us, to their bass cry, the fishermen carry their boats on their shoulders. In the half-light, their shadow figures move in a regular rhythmic fashion. coir ropes binding them to the curving ends of their makeshift boats. On reaching the shore, they free themselves and walk into the dark green water up to their knees. Now they stand in a line looking in the direction of the waiting sun. Their supple sun-burnt bodies bending as if in prayer, the dark hands sprinkle the sea water on their bare heads. |
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