Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Joy Goswami

THEY ARE THE ASHEN ONES. THEY ARE THE EXTINGUISHED.

They are the ashen ones. They are the extinguished.
They are smouldering wood

Half-burned and buried under layers of slime
they have been escaping for ages.

Each second grows a hundredfold in passing

It’s my job now to dig their beds
To tuck them in tenderly under sheets
under coverlets of mud

They are our mothers our fathers. I must find their bones
I must dig hundreds of graves holes bunkers I must
rummage through ages of sorrow anger ash and blood.

THEY ARE THE ASHEN ONES. THEY ARE THE EXTINGUISHED.

Close

THEY ARE THE ASHEN ONES. THEY ARE THE EXTINGUISHED.

They are the ashen ones. They are the extinguished.
They are smouldering wood

Half-burned and buried under layers of slime
they have been escaping for ages.

Each second grows a hundredfold in passing

It’s my job now to dig their beds
To tuck them in tenderly under sheets
under coverlets of mud

They are our mothers our fathers. I must find their bones
I must dig hundreds of graves holes bunkers I must
rummage through ages of sorrow anger ash and blood.

THEY ARE THE ASHEN ONES. THEY ARE THE EXTINGUISHED.

They are the ashen ones. They are the extinguished.
They are smouldering wood

Half-burned and buried under layers of slime
they have been escaping for ages.

Each second grows a hundredfold in passing

It’s my job now to dig their beds
To tuck them in tenderly under sheets
under coverlets of mud

They are our mothers our fathers. I must find their bones
I must dig hundreds of graves holes bunkers I must
rummage through ages of sorrow anger ash and blood.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère