A Haibun (untitled) by Sayantani Roy

Haibun (untitled)

March winds whimper through pine boughs and prayer flags. At long last, the gilded doors and whitewashed walls of Ghoom monastery. In the courtyard, three boy monks chase one another with fat brooms, their tattered robes flying behind them as they jostle past us. Taking two steps at a time, they climb up the stone stairway that leads to the temple entrance. As they run up the roughhewn stones, my eyes fall on the deep chilblain scars circling their ankles. 

Inside the cavernous shrine, the splendid Buddha—golden body, brocade robes, perfect hands on lap. 

                incense ash
                falling silently
                through eternity 

Sayantani Roy’s writing straddles both India and the U.S., and she calls both places home. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Cold Lake Anthology, Gone Lawn, Heavy Feather Review, Imposter Poetry Journal, Pen to Print, The Hooghly Review, The Seattle Times, and Wordgathering. She dreams of teaching poetry to young children one day. Find her on Instagram @sayan_tani_r. https://www.instagram.com/sayan_tani_r