Autumn

Taseer Gujral

I held an old picture in hand
The absence of colour stirring a season
Of fullness in a void
I saw fire throwing up tired shadows on walls
I saw red leaves returning to their branches
And a strange fear possessed me
The fear of coming to the path 

I had started from
I always had a problem
With tracing the figure of eight,
When I was a child
The picture is a relic of that fear
Of having squandered a fertile time of life
And a strange sense of loss 
Of moments never experienced

The gravel path that stretched was
Lonelier than abandonment 
That autumn evening
Time became a lost child
As the air stood still 
in a drugged blue ache

Taseer Gujral

+ PostsBio

Taseer Gujral is a poet, editor, columnist and a translator. Her published works appear in The Sunflower Collective, Coldnoon Diaries, Muse India, Open Road Review and many acclaimed anthologies. She has written columns for the DNA and the Indian Express. She is a core member of the WE (Women Empowered) group, and is one of the judges for the acclaimed Kamala Das Award. Her interests range from Poetry, Translation, and Cinema, Aesthetics and Music.