By Himarsha Mulchandani
I love the sky
but I do not know
the joy of flight.
I have only ever loved it
from afar
always the intruder,
always the observer;
seeing, but not feeling
the lachrymose downpours,
the slight winds,
the red blush of clouds,
and if ever,
in my ant-like existence
have I felt what it’s like
to love a sky,
then I have only done so
in the discarded pieces
that fell out of its orbit
pieces too
h e a v y
pieces that didn’t fit,
pieces that dragged
d
o
w
n
the beauty it stood for.
I loved the sky,
as I loved you
from afar,
in elements,
and never with hands
that could hold all of you.