Isha Mital

 

Isha is a visual artist and poet whose work deals with the nuances of the human experience, while inviting the reader to delve into the depths of their own intellectual and emotional landscapes. Her artistic journey is a continuous exploration of the power and depth of poetry as a means of expression, connection, and a perpetual arrival at one's own place and purpose in life. Both her written and visual work has previously appeared in Sunday Mornings at the River, Through Lines Magazine, Where Meadows, The Turning Leaf Journal, Ink in Thirds Magazine, Full House Literary Magazine, SQUID Literary Magazine, and SHINE International Poetry Series. 

 

4/22

The note fluttered about,
and had no place to land,
when it first started to grab
at the hem of the trail
of a star,
and was met with the desire
for a place
that smelt like strawberries.

Companions of the heart
gathered together for the task
of leading him,
for he had seen the star
as it rose,
and was filled with great joy.
He wanted to open his
treasure chests
and give his all to the one that
had been born.
But the gifts could never
be offered.
A robbery took away all
that had been before it was time.
The trail has since
disappeared.
Now, not a speck of it
can be seen.
The traveler has become a device
telling time.
The passage of it;
the violence in the slow passing of it.



The Bargain

I witnessed a bargain,
last night.
It was Love. They were handing
Him over. Hypocrisy,
in her serpentine
robes, posed like a
seraphim. Her hair, bright
like filaments. Her eyes, fiery
darts. The accord
was established overnight,
and before daybreak, she
had already traded
deceit for truth, parading
a perverted image
of light. And just like that,
Love became a
captive. The ground under
His feet free fell
in cahoots with
Hades. The dark
swallowed Him up. He fell
face-first into the
wreckage of His own
being. The flame huffed,
while He continued
to burn
at both ends. His light
burned only in the dying
embers.
I was on my knees
watching
this take place in real
time, when
at last, the carriage
took Him away, and I could
watch no more.