Cloudy vision mocks my sorrow/The hag that stares back at me/Or so He said, through all the time spells/I knew of Him. Poetry by Jayshree Misra Tripathi.
No, I am not ready To cry. Just yet. The winter winds that once teased Now chill my bones, induce fright So I wash and wash These deadly sins away - poof - Just foam and chemicals, Yet insidiously the skin Around my nails, wait, was it the decaying Flesh, the odour of guilt, In sudden metamorphic harmony - Bled into the scar I never admitted to? Mirror, mirror on the wall – age has withered My corrupted soul, No reflection to see clearly - Cloudy vision mocks my sorrow. The hag that stares back at me, Or so He said, through all the time spells I knew of Him. I could laugh, not yet cry - At sudden death. Unbecoming- Of an afflicted karmdsayaic.
Jayshree Misra Tripathi has lived and taught across three continents, in diverse cultures. Her published works include: “The Sorrow of Unanswered Questions” (2001 International Centre for Ethnic Studies, Colombo, Sri Lanka); Dilemmas and Scattered Weaves: Musings in Narrative Verse, Flash Vignettes of Travels through the Diaspora” (2014 Quills Publishing); “Tales in Verse from India for Children Everywhere” Vols. 1&2 ( 2014 , Pothi ; Book Baby).