The Widow
The Widow
Parismita Goswami
Despair was on the epoch of an aching soul
Desires left her home antiquity
The flames of fire kept her room warm and windows open
Her dry lips and grey hairs were waves of agony
She waited for her sweet death like the villagers waited for funfair
Drowning in the unescorted love of beauty and rust
She still looks at the moon as an orchestral satiety
Though fate was brutal and hope distant
She wrote every evening after her husband’s death
Children were indebted to her sacrifices
The question was whether material happiness is everything?
Age and pain cannot defy,
A warrior!
Parismita Goswami is a postgraduate scholar of Pondicherry University pursuing Politics and International Relations. She is a writer and has published papers in various platforms and is also a poet.
