A Cyclone Bypassed The Century Old Housing 

You shut the centurian wooden 
windows, shut the fifty years old 
glass panes, pant, grab a chair, and wait.

The gale bypasses the city. You know- 
you should feel free, childish, green.
A tint of sharpness colours your thoughts.
The cyclone must have visited another town,
village, claimed a price for your safe place.
You have all your age again, and some more.
Noontime, dark though, rain trickles
down the thin membrane of your cells.
There is nothing to shut. A scared sparrow
flies trapped within. Your mother 
have superstitions regarding its flight 
in a house. Your heart opens its structure,
dismantles its shape for the bird’s release.

Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor