‘A Living Gratitude’: A poem by Aditi Rao

There are lifetimes in that backpack, like rocks
that grind each other to smooth. I hear
them groan and roll their eyes as we walk
by the river, through deodars, then higher

into sky woven by street child. I used to resist
leaving legs behind, think fractures worse
than absence. I used to think jigsaws exist
for whole images, never the moment of one curve

smooth into another. Now, as a peahen guides
us through an unfamiliar sky, as we laugh
in the corners of Urdu words, as the rocks inside
the bag learn slowly to leave things in the rough,

as we slither through the days, amongst all we have gained,
I am proudest of this: we have earned each other’s names.

Published with permission from “The Fingers Remember: Poems”, Yoda Press, 2015.

This selection is curated by Yamini Krishnan.