Sir Creek

Absorbing a thousand and one
Arabian nights in fear,
my feathery filaments
supply oxygen 
and sonnets of hope
in the bloodstream.

The marsh arteries 
in my courtyard,
compile political convulsions
and maritime disputes,
contusions sprouting 
from partition
and bleeding internally.

The flamingos
legally keep shifting homes,
summarizing the winters
to their baby cousins 
at the summer palace,
but I am a refugee and an earning,
with ordinary fins 
in this extraordinary estuary.

Fishermen of Kutch and Sindh
ritually have their dignity ripped
and boats seized because of me.
Borders have sledgehammered 
the heritage of my solitude,
any considerate Jinni in the sea
who can bring me a glimpse of it?

©songbriti

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