If Winter Comes

If winter comes –

Will that mean the end of the days

We had been savoring?

With the steady awakening of these branches

And the equally steady fall of your visits and of vows each time –

Shall I suffer like cold cinders?

Trampled a thousand times?

Somewhere, I shall retreat where

Weary of all these, my well-trimmed being shall wait, but

For me.

With a deep breath and a warm sigh, I shall linger…

Even if winter reigns with all its insolent fury,

And your momentary visits become lesser and lesser –

I shall finally retreat where a lump of solace shall stay, but for me.

Let all of them gather dust –

Let them all: these ruptured trees awaiting the funeral pyre.


Even if winter comes with

all its insolent fury, with all its decadence,

I finally know that nothing eerie awaits me –

Not even your erstwhile furtive glances

That now rain fire and ashes.

Then I shall be me only

My self, who shall await its own kind.

Arnab  Chatterjee

About Ijagun Poetry Journal

Ijagun Poetry Journal is a quarterly journal that provides a platform from which we can tell our own stories in the authenticity of their multiplicity through the poetic medium. We don’t want to hear these stories from our master “griots” alone; we want to hear from those mastering their art, too. Hence, we aim at publishing new and emerging poets. We also welcome the works of established poets in order to encourage the poetic genius of those mastering poetic art. We prize original works that conform to, break or reinvent conventions. Again, we accept reviews and critical essays on poetry. We also accept powerful art works and photographs that make us appreciate the "poetry" in everything.
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