WE VIEW - SUNDAY
Somrita Urni Ganguly, our Guest Editor for this issue of WE VIEW from Women Empowered- India (WE), gathers together poets, artists, musicians & writers to take a look at those 'Sundays' - bygone and present, whose memories linger in the heart... her SUNDAY emerges in translucent dream-like colours, to the soft tinkle of invisible guitar strings...
Somrita Urni Ganguly, our Guest Editor for this issue of WE VIEW from Women Empowered- India (WE), gathers together poets, artists, musicians & writers to take a look at those 'Sundays' - bygone and present, whose memories linger in the heart... her SUNDAY emerges in translucent dream-like colours, to the soft tinkle of invisible guitar strings...
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Sunday
You've called me forth,
my Lord!
She thinks,
staring outside the french windows into the green.
Her silver hair mirrors
the silver on her finger.
The bell has tolled
up the hill, behind the warehouse.
But she sits and stares--
now the congregation must stand,
on a Sunday morning.
--Her arms resting on her lap.
Patient; patting a crying baby to sleep.
The bells toll again as
the grey eyes close--
the brown cross at the centre,
candles beneath as she kneels--
Lips opening and closing
like bubbles in a cauldron,
swift, gurgling.
You've called me forth my Lord!
Another bell--
Her head hangs in reverence.
- Pragya Anurag
Pragya Anurag is currently pursuing her MPhil in English literature from Jawaharlal Nehru
University, New Delhi.
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