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For as long as I can remember
a window has remained closed
somewhere within me.
On its glass
the years have left
their fingerprints.
Behind it,
a few birds that have never seen the light,
a few seasons
without names.
If a word
is kept hidden in the heart
for years,
it does not remain a word.
It turns into moonlight
that sits alone
on the edge of sleep at night
and weeps in silence.
If tears are held back
in the eyes
for too many days
they cease to be water.
Once
there was a river
inside my chest.
It knew neither
its path nor its destination,
yet it had a current.
So it did not flow
in waves
It flowed silently,
deep within me.
Some sorrows
are not like wounds.
They are like
the fragrance that lingers
on the branches
after the flowers have fallen.
Some loves
are not distances
that can never be crossed.
They are like
the colours of evening
that the sky
cannot bring itself to let go.
Then, one night,
all at once,
the birds imprisoned within me
spread their wings.
Silence
tore open its own covering.
And darkness
gave birth
to the little light
it had carried
hidden within its womb.
Then I understood
to let go
is not to lose.
It is like rain
leaving the cloud
to become one with the earth
Like fragrance
leaving the flower
and becoming air
Like a river
forgetting its banks
and dissolving into the sea
melting away
even its own name.
Now,
there are no doors
within me.
Only windows
No cages
Only skies
The solitary man
who once sat
inside the darkness
now flies through my blood
like a bird
taking wing at dawn.
I have not really
lost anything.
I have only
set free
the self
that was imprisoned
within me.
Image Copyright - Varala Anand |
