ARCHAELOGIST

I love her like the blue lake, might love the migratory birds on its banks. Scattered in an array of colors; diving into the waves, swooping out of the trees and singing to the delight of the visitors. At once gathering, accolades from the world.

It is her moving away from me, her circumstantial absence, that feels like the winter. The grass, then, pales out on my banks. The mist rises over the horizon. The sky sheds its indigo jacket. The pines weep under the snow. My waters, whose once rippling waves enfolded the music of her voice, starts to freeze. And soon I am forgotten under the covering of snow. My presence as unknown to the world, as fossil, an artefact embedded in the heart of the earth.

It is my fate that holds me from succumbing. And so I wait.

I wait for her to return from across the mountains, and rediscover my love like a much awaited truth. Break the ice of suffering and breathe life back to my world. For it is only that, the touch of love, that can both freeze one into captivation and also set it free. And for that, for being able to continue swinging between the thrill of living and dying in love, I let myself be an uncovered fossil and she, my lovely archaeologist.

© Sobhan Pramanik