We buried a bird
Behind our ancestral home
It was the end of an abandoned summer
We were eight or nine.
You sent me a book of birds
I could remember a day,
Its ash colored wings,
Can we but trace its tombstone out,
Its forgotten flock,
The faded map,
The withered tree awaiting her in an unknown continent?
About the Contributor
Pratheesh Ramachandran was born in Kerala, in 1987. He is an artist and poet. He has published 3 books in Malayalam, and now works in a judicial department.
Meditations - Marcus Aurelius
Staying upon the stoic philosophy, Aurelius makes room for everyone, which is a sky itself. He talked to the soul, there was no listeners at all, of the place of a man/ woman in this universe, in this earth, in nature. Walking along with Aurelius is a meditating process, through which we forget the superfluous mind, regain our divinity. We then might more easily find out where the contours of the interior and the exterior meet.
More from Issue Ten:
- Tracks of Life and Death by Liz Kohn
- A short course of treatment by Tim Love
- Heating disorder by Myriam Frey
- Heirlooms by Rosie Garland
- Mourning by Katherine McMahon
- The Ghost of my Mother is waiting for me in Arrivals by Claire Collison
- Pakistan Zindabad, from Abroad by Hana Riaz
- Adopt a vortex by Han Smith
- Sea Sickness by Eloise Unerman
- British Street Music by Tamim Sadikali
- Pomegranate by Caroline Gonda