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