Paper Boat
Abbas Panakkal
Had the rain created
ugliness in front of my hut,
I could be able to
play like a naughty child
and make a paper boat cutting pages
from the new books of my elder sister.
I waited a long daytime for a lovely rain.
My mind slipped in to slumber.
Rain did not turn up.
It came late night like a curse
of grandmother on the thatched roof.
I woke up, water had not
divulged all my body, save the head.
The flood had taste of tears.
There was not even a single paper
in my hand to make a boat.
I looked for my dear sister.
I identified black letters,
adored her books.
I cried out her sweet name.
My vocal cords dissolved in the water.
I wrote ‘boat’ with my
bare fingers on the water
and tried to come out from the flood.
