MOHIT MITRA Poet Rhyme

Astral Reliquary

—When the Last Tear Remembers the First Star—

When grief came barefoot through the corridors of night,
And briny traitors rose from the caverns of my despair,
They bore the ancient verdict written against the light,
That clay must bow when storms have stripped it bare;
Yet beneath the ruins of all I had known as me,
A small forgotten door opened into memory.

For years I wore a kingdom forged of silent pride,
A crown of iron placed upon a trembling head,
And hid the rivers that moved beneath the tide,
Lest they reveal the fragile country where I bled;
I called my tears a weakness unworthy of my name,
While my own heart burned quietly without flame.

Then came those salt-winged strangers from the deep,
Those pale ambassadors of sorrow’s oldest sea,
Who entered where the buried wounds of childhood sleep,
And whispered that even mountains fall eventually;
But when their waters gathered upon my sight,
I closed my eyes and walked beyond the night.

I returned to afternoons of unmeasured gold,
Where dust rose softly beneath our running feet,
Where a little universe of laughter could unfold,
And rain would crown the lanes we called complete;
There, beneath a sky no sorrow had yet scarred,
A nameless radiance waited in the backyard.

No throne, no armour, no forgotten vow remained,
Only the wind, the earth, the voices left behind,
The old familiar paths where innocence had rained,
And a vanished constellation blooming in my mind;
Then every salt-born river descending from my eyes
Turned into trembling jewels across the sable skies.

I knew not whether the heavens had bent to me,
Or whether I had finally learned the heavens’ tongue;
For grief was no longer the grave it seemed to be,
But the first dark soil where hidden stars were sprung;
And the thing I had feared as my deepest scar
Was carrying within it the memory of Diamond—the star.

Now when those briny heralds return once more,
And knock upon the chambers of my mortal frame,
I welcome the tide that once I called a war,
For it arrives bearing no defeat, nor shame;
And somewhere beyond the silence where all tears are done,
A diamond still trembles—the first light of the sun.

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