Puri On Sea Poem by Prasanna Mishra

Those grains of ashes
I yearn for
On the beach
The sea breeze blew
From the collapsing pyre
In the west
After the fire
Had consumed
The mortal remains
Of our forefathers.

Those tiny-crabs
I yearn to look for
On the shore
Who fed on
Those drops of tears
Which flew
From the flood
From the eyes of the bereaved sons
Lighting the pyres.

That tribe of fishermen
On the shore
With majestic cone-crowns
I yearn for
Who had lifted
A lone sobbing one year old
That was me
five decades ago
Away
From the incoming waves
And deposited
In a police booth
With both the neck
And gold chain
Around it
In tact.

Those ruins of fortresses
And grand mansions
Determined groups
Of children built on and on
To be swept away
In a sweep
Of a playful sea
I yearn to see.

The balancing acts
Of tiny feet
On the yielding sand
Washed by soft brine
On its return journey
I yearn to see.

That ancient beach
Ever caressing
Both life and death
In grand serenity
In its pristine
Unspoilt whiteness
I yearn to see
Again