Bridges of wood have long been burnt,
A trail of lies and truths unheard unspoken unaccounted for
Supine yet paramount
Rags all packed and lessons (un)learnt,
A few metallic dreams in my wallet
And a letter upfront,
I tread down a road unknown
In search of a home of my own
Where choices never made, never haunt.
About the Poet
Shankuraj Konwar is a post-graduate student pursuing media and cultural studies at Tata Institute of Social Sciences in Mumbai. His hobbies include art, poetry, and music.