| Thursday, 15 October 2026 | Print
The days pass, breathing in the scent of green,
in pointless, hollow indulgence.
They say green is an endless horizon,
a feast for the eyes.
All day I watch the green
until the fleeing sun loses its last light.
I see dust scorched by fire,
green fading until it swallows
the moisture in my eyes.
I see green, I see Chaitanyagram
Mukles, his body scorched by heat,
shoulders like mounds of alluvial earth,
bent over the plough;
Rajab Mollah’s drooping neck.
They grow green all year,
yet factory and kiln smoke
swallows the green.
Nature begs for a breath of freshness.
Even human breath is no longer trusted;
who knows when the lungs will fall silent?
My eyes deceive me,
the clouds are fooled,
even the rain falls black.
Where has the green gone?
I can no longer find it anywhere.
*Chaitanyagram- the village of living consciousness, where the soul of the earth and its people struggle to survive as the green disappears.
Copyright@Faruk Ahmed Roni
Posted 5:01 pm | Thursday, 15 October 2026
globalpoetandpoetry.com | Faruk Ahmed Roni
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