By Komal Aandhiwal
Honey dipped sunshine eyes,
my inner child starts counting.
Every moment where her heart skipped a beat - alhamdulillah. one. two. three.
The bluebirds that once lined up my window in your anticipation,
now chirp lullabies. I dreamt I held you in my arms.
You said, every moment before you was longing.
A lavender sky and sage green hands,
folded in quiet murmured prayers.
Crumbs of my cookie, tucked in your napkin.
A silent sigh and anxious feet.
When the door creaked open, and a barely crescent moon set foot,
your eyes lit up like a cherry blossom blanket.
Now I say, every moment after you is home,
a touch of summer hands.
Better to never have loved than loved wrong,
when mouths that have no business to speak, rage.
Their voice gnawing at your blood,
like carpenter ants.
You turn your face to me like sunflowers do,
when the sun steals itself away.
My inner child shows you her fingers.
One. two. three. breathe against. me.
It's a late November sky.
By the time April arrives,
you'll have known yourself.
One question at a time.
Tell them, then, better to have loved and lost.
For the world may gesture you to leave.
Breathe inward, her counting hasn't stopped.
Maybe never will.
One. two. three. You and me.
Home will be a steady heartbeat.
Amidst all the crossroads and dead ends,
you may not know where you came from.
You'll always know where to go.