You're the tree
I planted as a child, I wonder
what if you don't recognise me anymore
that I mean nothing
I am nothing
to you?
What if you don't remember
the plant I watered
or the fruits I nourished
with you?
What if you gave me
a vacant look
when I rest my back
in your shade?
I think we would still
be related
in so many ways
and much more than others.
Official Website and Blog for Shaleen Rakesh, an indie author based in Dehradun, India. Shaleen is a writer and recursive observer of the shifting Himalayan landscape, whose work interrogates the friction between geologic time and the fragile architecture of human memory. Deeply rooted in the ecological and psychological terrain of the Doon Valley, his prose functions as a diagnostic for the Anthropocene—charting the rain of ash that defines modern loss.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
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The medieval Maghreb occupies a curious place in literary imagination. When people think of medieval Islamic poetry, they often turn eastwar...
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खुले नीले आस्मां तले हवा ने अपने पंख खोले और तुम्हारी मुस्कान से चले एक राह निकली है मुझतक तुम्हारे ...
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At night at night you're not here at night at night you're not here any more than day at night you're not here no more do I dre...
