Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2016
He hasn't buried the baby within
but today he buried the ashes of his baby
crying like a baby
as the river devoured the bone dusts
and all the remnants
of the cuddles and kisses
hollowing him to remember
the guest of his blood
that would feed on his grief
for the rest of his life.
August afternoon, a father cremates his baby child on a ghat by the river Ganga.
Pradip Chattopadhyay
Please log in to view and add comments on poems