Poetry at Sangam



I BECAME THE RIVER by Niloofar Fanaiyan

How do you break the fourth wall when all the walls are the same, invisible barricades of howling, meaningless rumble, empty desires, holding you captive in an unclassified expanse of space that steadily decreases with every dwindling breath – she dreamt that I lay in a dark place with a purple glow, I seemed to be dying but for the light streaming into my heart and my heart was strong – once, I stood on hallowed ground, my head leaning against a pillar of cool marble, while overhead fighter jets broke the barrier of sound – another time I walked on old cobble-stones, the smell of gingerbread wafting from windows in the street, and prayers I had memorised as a child escaped my lips in toneless murmurs – and then there was the time when I became the river, and the river and I descended till we flowed beneath the blockades and away from the citadel – the space is still the same, the walls constantly revolving, but there are moments, mid-revolution, when there are flashes of a certain shade of blue