A Poem by Naush Sabah
Lentic
The floodwater shows us which drains
we neglected before the rains
*
In summer when the lake subsides
we glimpse the pre-Partition shrines.
*
Where both sides of the bridge can’t meet
lake sediment eludes concrete.
*
Split by two houses both your own
you wake elsewhere and long for home.
*
It’s earth and water that decide
what to wash clean what to hide.
*
Sixty years submerged in a lake
our histories remain opaque.
*
Each three-month visit will confirm
you can go back but can’t return.
*
My language died by my own tongue.
English floods my children’s lungs.
*
Still waters look upon our homes
as empty storeyed catacombs.
*
In time the child who was confined
imprisons the adult within her mind.
*
We cast our coins into the pool
to watch our secret hopes unspool.
*
Naush Sabah’s debut pamphlet, Litanies (Guillemot Press, 2021), was shortlisted for the Michael Marks Poetry Award in 2022. Her new pamphlet, Lentic, is forthcoming with the same press in July.