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By Goirick Brahmachari

Stones, they stay stones over souls who have lived and died.
Stones, they live through the stroke of time.
Lives they archive through the marks they carry –
lives they engrave through lifelessness.
Stones underground, smell of rotten flesh
for stones, they stay stones over flesh and bones, of souls who have built them.
The body of a stone, where the bodies turn to stone do not grow old.
And stones, they cut bodies like souls who cut stones to build them.
Life grows roots on stones that carry many deaths. 

Photo-credit: Goirick Brahmachari

Author:

Goirick Brahmachari is a writer based in New Delhi. His poems and articles have appeared in North East Review, Nether, TFQM, Coldnoon: Travel Poetics, Raedleaf Poetry, The Reading Hour, The Hindu, and Economic and Political Weekly among others.

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Cafe Dissensus Everyday is the blog of Cafe Dissensus magazine, based in New York City, USA. All materials on the site are protected under Creative Commons License.

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Read the latest issues of Cafe Dissensus Magazine on Short Stories, themed around ‘Night’, edited by author, Sumana Roy.

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