.

esire is a basic human need, so said Rumi, forgetting
that most hold their desire in, veiled in silence.

Dogs piss, crows crow, and the world seems seminal,
yet our desire throbs, alive, ardent, existing in silence.

The man waiting for his death sentence to commence,
counts the sins he has committed, repenting in silence.

A woman screams, trying to piece together the memory
of her stillborn son she held for moments in silence.

The man across the street watering his garden, thinks
of fucking his neighbour’s wife, daydreaming in silence.

The woman cheating on her husband, begs her lover
for yet another visit, justifying the breach of trust in silence.

Sometimes, there is a face from the past, a halo
of panic, surviving as shards of longing in silence.

‘And you, Sanchari?’ ‘I? I watch these dramas unfold around me,
thankful that all I have to mourn is a broken heart, in silence’.

* * * * *

Sanchari Sur is a Bengali Canadian who was born in Calcutta, India. Her photography, poetry and short fiction have been published or are forthcoming in Map Literary, Barely South Review,Red River Review, Black Fox Literary Review, Urban Shots – Crossroads (India: Grey Oak/Westland, 2012) and elsewhere. Her short story, “Those Sri Lankan Boys,” was selected to be a part of Diaspora Dialogues Youth Mentoring Program in Toronto this year. You can find her at http://sursanchari.wordpress.com.