A Sleepless Night Writes

By Arti Jain

Hymns of Himalayas heard
not too long ago
ricochet in chambers
deep and alive
hidden from sight
throbbing with red:
some call it heart.

I have no name for it.
Just a feeling that I feel:
a longing
perhaps, hiraeth.

What is it about rest stops on long walks
in mountains of my birth earth
that notes sung by children in hamlets and villages
float and bound on air and clouds
and break all lockdowns
to whisper in my ear:
come home child,
the Mountains are calling.

I’m a blogger who has written more poetry in the last six months than in the last six years! 

My blog is: artismoments.blogspot.com and my Instagram handle is @arti.a.jain

I was born and raised in the Himalayan state of Uttarakhand in northern India and although I’ve lived away from India for the past 20 years, I’ve managed to go back at least once a year to trek in my beloved mountains. Of course, Covid 19 has put a stop to that this year. The poem I’m sharing with you today speaks of my longing. 

For me, the sequestering has been akin to hatching. I’m the egg that’s had enough rest, time, warmth to crack open some new and some old but forgotten creative channels during the last six months. The unbroken expanses of time at my disposal have helped me to write more regularly than ever. Of course, I miss the freedom of travelling and seeing friends but somewhere deep down, the hermit in me is relishing this time away from the world. 

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Teo Eve
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Teo Eve
18 days ago

I really enjoyed how the feeling of emptiness, established through lost and trailing sounds, evoked the stillness felt during the first lockdown, where even city streets seemed to echo with the ricochets of nature

Sijith
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Sijith
23 days ago

👏👏👏👏

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