Orpheus and Eurydice (1862) by Edward Poynter. Image: Wikicommons
Today, I’m Orpheus.
I follow my Eurydice beneath the canopy,
watching the wind flush her cheeks and the sky smirk at her willowy self.
The grass is spread out for her, blossoming beneath her very gaze –
she looks at me with teary eyes,
the sun photo-bombing her smile.
My beloved rolls in her grave, and I dream of her hand in mine again.
The fruits fall down from the trees, the
leaves form a pillow for her to rest her head
on, wanting to cling to her body, it’s as if
nature is competing with me for her.
I look behind me. Eurydice stands there. I look
in front of me. She’s there too.
I look besides me, she’s not.
Paridhi Puri (she/her) is the Editor & Collaborations Head at Ayaskala, a digital media press which aims to create awareness about mental health and its mutifacets. A scholarship recipient and graduate of University of Iowa’s International Writing Program; she is a copyeditor at DU Beat, India’s largest student led newspaper. You can find her poetry at The Girth Within.