Blue

This forest is a tideline–deep with stillness, 
where, 
strands of my loose hair levitate
around a blinking, cleft star in the distance
and through the opening of the trees, 
I sunder;
the hem of my heart surrenders
in soft recoiling,
in ocular restraint–with nowhere gentle to land.
I am at crossroads 
with myself
and my self,
buoyed in a room, 
in a thin place,
in a fracture,
in a fragile ending. 
I remember the carrying
of oceans, and how
the visiting of a simple memory
loosening inward
scared me so ardently, I blurred 
into the clearing,
into the peripheries of my own blankness 
from which
I sought nothing more.
Snata Basu is a writer based in Dhaka, Bangladesh. Her poetry has appeared on numerous literary platforms including The Opiate, Visual Verse: An Online Anthology of Art and Words, and Small World City.