I have often had a glimpse of you

watching the swallows flying south

listening to Bach or Bob Dylan

with the rain drumming on the roof

I have heard your voice in an autumn gale

and in the soft fall of early snow

but then I think

it’s only a foolish illusion

your ashes sank in the river

with all the detritus of death

you have become nothing

vacancy, vacuum, inertia, emptiness, absence

but the swallows still journey south

Swallows Fly South

Sarah Das Gupta is an English teacher who taught in Kolkata(Calcutta) and Tanzania, as well as the UK. She started writing last October during a long spell in hospital following an accident. Her work has been published in many magazines from over ten countries, including US, UK, Germany, Canada, Australia, India and Romania.