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