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Writer's pictureBasudhara Roy

Topophilia


Not all places will grow into you.

You have to let them settle and negotiate,

the place and you,

till both decide where, if at all,

they may meet, uninhibited.


Places have souls too.

Empty rooms are full of waiting

till the right tenancy arrives.

Floors cannot rebel and ricochet under

your feet but to have them


yield to you in love is fortune.

A surface, crack, bolt, switch

can be stubborn, hostile till you summon

empathy to touch,

and read their frayed longings,


braille-like on fingertips.

You must be grateful if corridors

usher you along, if windows freely give way

to light and air, if

shadows protect you from the


excesses of truth, if the murmurs

of blinds keep you safe like

vigilant fathers across distances.

You must give yourself up

to a place before it can take you in.


Once the choice has been made,

the heart written over

with a kiss, even the final

scattering from an urn shall be

a planting in dear love’s name.


- from Stitching a Home (2021)



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