Spread your wings.

wings

Lift your wings to fly.

 

There is no safety here.

This morning in the garden
your words fell out.
Your mouth opened
and ran out of things to say.

Light abandoned and every corner
you went into the spaces
hid away and you became,
just another voice in the wind.

No one notices when the snow
begins and the motels
close and none of the roads
lead home and none of the homes
even have roads
that could take you there.

This morning you collapsed
in on yourself,
and it was only the air
that felt you’re falling.

We heard the
song before we
saw the truck,
and fueled by
heart and hunger,
raced across
the clover field.

You in the lead
as always,
riding free handed,
your smile fuller
than a rain heavy sky.

Majestic creator of geometry
Of my peering face, window,
weeping willow tree.
Her body cropped against the landscape
Cradles birds, leaves, buildings,
Rain and shadows.
In open arms.

Her ever-changing robe.
Sapphire, crimson, auburn, gold.
Continuously alters the wrapping paper.
Presenting the Earth to mankind.

The world ends where the sky begins,
Nothing lies beyond the horizon
But the knowledge
of the stars,
Reaching beyond the Milky Way
Whose luminescence strokes my tabletop,
In a tiny apartment
A gleaming box of light
Adorning the vast expanse of a building,
Carved along the edges
Of a clear night sky.


© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source- Pooja Mukherjee