- If I Were to Be
If I were to be,
I would be a grapefruit
growing near an unknown river,
listening to rumors of the raging tempest,
counting the days
until my roots thicken like winter fog—
strong enough to resist
the long arms of humans.
Until the day I’m severed,
separated, and sold,
I will hum quietly.
⸻ - Calligraphy of Birds
In the valley of Kashmir,
a young boy plays a flute in thick fog—
each note a hymn to the streams,
a prayer for a flock of migrating birds,
for their safe journey.
The scent of pine pressed into their wings,
ochre sunsets resting in their beaks.
The sun is absent from the sky,
lingering outside the city
to bid farewell
to summer.
⸻ - August
After last night’s rain,
poppies turned fresh again.
A rainbow of colors
celebrates the gentle rainfall
on tall trees.
Pavement sprouts
with saplings yearning
for their flowing robes.
Nightingales sing cabaret
while mating.
A river bends low
to let many streams enter,
carrying all the fish
to the ocean.
Dawn breaks over the horizon,
wearing silk stockings
of peonies.
A young girl
picks a yellow hibiscus
from the ground
and tucks it in her doll’s hair.
The perfume of lushness
arrives at a farmer’s door—
he awaits grains
swaying in his fields.
About the Author
Laila Brahmbhatt is a writer of Kashmiri origin currently based in New York, where she
works as a senior consultant. Her haiku have been published in a range of international
journals and magazines, including Asahi Haikuist Network, Cold Moon Journal, Five
Fleas (Itchy Poetry), Shadow Pond Journal, Fresh Out Magazine, and Under the Basho.
Her haibun has appeared in Failed Haiku, and her poetry has been featured in
publications such as The Madras Courier, NII Journal, The Wise Owl, Poetry Catalog,
Borderless Journal, and Poems India
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