about being in the bathroom for hours in the blazing heat, hammer it to a fairy tale, let me sleep for years, all those winters for evil, bury it, bury it, under the snow, I really can't do it justice, no windows because I'm screaming or it sounds guttural, that pull before bearing down or death, and I feel it, in my thighs and my back and my hips and my throat, I couldn't eat all day and I had to run or stumble or crawl, bile, lumps on my tongue, tablets half-dissolved, never timed well or strong enough so sit on the toilet to empty the whole of my body until it is a sliver of flesh, sweat, ash or ghost or I used to have a face, vomit over and over and over in the sink and my insides are beaten with echoes or glass or burning, shaking until the room is barely a shell for existence that breaks away in hot atoms, lie down for the afterlife, see what the blood could have been, count another number of days, yes, a month is a lie, as is everything, that this pain feels deserving, is punishment for all future sins, the psychiatrist they sent me to made sure of it, then he sat back and laughed, kissed the money and watched the tide swallow the red dusk.

The pain runs deep with so much hurt carried on the current, looking back
seeing all that was done, the suffering all at the hands of others, yet 
having no regret, no ill wishes for those at the helm of what was done.  I see
the beauty that was always surrounding me, the dew on the grass 
glistening in the morning sun, the hugs of the evening colors as they set
on the horizon, wrapping me and caressing me to see all that is good. Sitting in
the rain feeling and absorbing the tears of others so all would have less 
to bear.  Each drop that strikes me awakens the soul, smiling as the water cascades
down my face and arms, soon my body will be part of the storm waiting to subside 
and pass, able to move on.  Storms and turbulence can last for 
years, always there, lurking and waiting, dark clouds sit on the horizon. Where 
all bad memories rest and sleep, there is beauty to be found, the beauty that lives,
the beauty that longs to be seen and felt.  This was you.  When my days were full of 
misery and my soul so lost, you were the brightness that guided me to a
haven, a place where love was felt.  Your beauty was internal, your caring I thought
unmatched, your touch so warm and kiss so gentle.  I cannot hate you for what you 
have done, that is a job for others.  I can only see you as who I knew you were, 
even if you didn’t.  After each storm, there is a rainbow to be seen, in the darkest hours
I see and feel all you created, never to be taken away.  In time all will be healed
the scars, though there will be harder to see, the pain will be less and less, and the hurt
will be locked away.  The beauty you created will live forever unobscured by all
that was taken.  The beauty of life knows no boundaries, escapes all hate, and repels the
evil that so easily can be consumed. The beauty will create smiles, laughter,
and joy when packing and leaving for the next journey.  

“I’ll never hurt you” is the phrase I still hear
The lies and untruths that were told
The false accusations that were made
So many people knew your truth
No one spoke up and now I am here
A year in prison because I found out
Even now, I don’t blame or hate 
You did what he told you to do
So now I wait and fight for me
To gain my innocence and be free
All my years I never thought
 I could be so  betrayed
All those times you called me dear
Every word you ever spoke and said
It resonates so loud in my ears 
All these years I never knew 
I kept my promise 
Made your dreams come true
I look back on this past year
Behind bars in a foreign land 
I used to wonder why, but now I know
I still believe he gave you no choice
To save yourself or me
It’s hard for me to know what you’ve done
But I don’t hate you, I guess that’s love
Now I must think about how to rebuild 
To get back what was stolen and took 
I gave you all and had no regrets
I thought I could save you but in the end
The actions of you betrayed us all 
Life will go on that is for sure
The wounds that were caused will never heal
I have forgiven all that was done
I will always remember being betrayed
One thing will never change
I believed in all that you could be
I hope that in the years to come
No one does to you what you did to me

 A sky so bright this crisp morning of Spring
Tulips are fading away and start their departure
Lilacs await to appear, buds beginning to pop to
present their fashion of white, purple, and deep 
reds.  Closing my eyes, I can smell the essence 
of my aunts.  The fragrance hugs and holds
me tight, giving me a little pinch on the cheeks.
I see them lining the streets in their Sunday bests, 
waving and smiling as I stroll by.  Cherry blossoms
of glory pink lie on the sidewalk in wait, creating a 
cotton candy carpet to wrap my feet.  Trodden by
hundreds before me yet fresh and luscious still the 
same, as if touched for the first time, a virgin to me.  
The beauty I’m surrounded by reminds me of all
that has been taken for granted as I begin my sixtieth
summer.  I’m like an Oak or Maple that casts a 
canopy over this avenue I walk.  So much has been
seen and witnessed in all these years.  The scars I 
bear upon my bark and within my rings. Arms
outstretched as a protector for those who walk
underneath.  Shield all from the elements and let 
this encourages the being to open up and absorb the 
the warmth of all that lives and all that is being spoken
through the beauty that exists.

​Blood has been insecure since birth.
Become scepter the red eyes of the womb
And there are volcanoes
And they are dormant.
Thus lost
Have lost
And will lose chance the alleys
To meet the highway
And revolution to meet the definition of silence. 

About the author:
Partha Sarkar, a resident of Ichapur, a small town of a province West Bengal Of India, is a graduate who writes poems inspired by the late Sankar Sarkar and his friends (especially Deb kumar Khan) to protest against the social injustice and crimes against nature. His poems have been in different magazines both in Bangla and in English. Once, he would believe in revolution but now he is confused because of the obscurity of human beings, though he keeps fire in soul despite.