Binocular Of Darkness Poem by polash datta

We were fresh then. Why night comes in village yet?
Why calls to the dark one-way tenaciously?
Nearest houses displaced a bit away? Who gaze
hour after hour sitting silently? But there’s nothing
that could be seen in darkness. There’s nothing
in who’s beauty darkness can survive in just black. Yet

we used to love darkness in village

only in it’s endurance we would comprehend the light in far verandah
Comprehend certain star alive in a far certain distance in a certain sea-emptiness.
It is coming out for thousands of years towards our village
approaching in its own light-carriage. As it was night
we receive it in flame of darkness

Light has come at last, leaving its source-star at who’s hand?
Don’t know how long that star surviving
Our village takes up their memory in folded hands

keeps on covering surrounding with darkness, to receive it.

So village purges night quickly when we are fresh
Calls us to its soil-field.
Prostrate sky above, star in heart.
Beneath, holding us, village keeps on gazing the binocular of darkness