Neha Aneesh
Her fire roared far and wide,
gently spilling into my childhood nights–
doors slamming open,
windows pierced with light.
She lit up rooms
not with warmth,
But the kind of brightness
that leaves no shadows behind.
Her voice– is not sweet,
It's ferocious,
graceful as a lioness mid–leap.
I feared It once–
The blaze, The bite,
the way her flame could swallow night.
Her anger soared,
Untamed,
A wild heat in open skies.
And I–
A child, an orbiting hush–
stood worlds apart.
She lives in a realm I cannot see–
For I am Earth, and she, the Sun.
scorching , sacred,
Luminous by law,
A diamond set in the dark of cosmos.
Some days,
my lands have cracked in drought,
baked under her blaze.
And some days
Floods come rushing in–
Her storms, her sorrows,
Pouring down in silver grief.
And, I grew.
A sunflower,
Turning heads–
Towards the furnace that raised me.
She roars,
not just with rage,
but with memories.
For she has seen darkness,
No star should ever know.
She took her vows–
And the man ended a black hole,
Swallowing light,
Devouring time.
I've watched her collapse inward,
surrounded by night,
never once asking for rescue.
She never speaks of her shadows true.
Well, she just calls them “hues”,
“Shades of black” in all its wilderness.
–But I know.
I know what space can do,
To the sun who danced brilliantly,
In her own skin.
Still, she shines.
Keeps my climate in balance.
Guides my seasons.
Because of her,
I breathe.
My greens stay green.
But without her?
Perhaps–
My poles would melt.
My skies would grey.
I would drought and drown,
all at once.
I am Earth.
She is my Sun–
Fierce,
Forgiving,
Forever.
But sometimes,
A quiet fear trembles in my core:
Even stars,
In all their brilliance,
eventually collapse.
And what becomes of Earth,
when the light that gave it life
ceases to rise?
– to Ammi,
I love you…