Itself Into Itself: A Poem

itself-into-itself

Connections aren’t born, they are crafted,

Just like yours and mine wasn’t a match made by a superior power.

When at night the stars hold more value to me than the silence,

I peek at your through the blinds of nostalgia.

Rivers and rivulets of brackish water, my tears,

Your anguish, why are ties always severed so callously?

Does it matter that our colors speckled over one another

For an entire year? Or was that one day of splendor enough?

Even after all these years your artless voice

Is ringing in my ears exactly as it was the day before you disappeared.

The moon howled at the rapacious beasts,

For it needed to see you again.

Paper boats kept drowning in tainted rainwater

Because no one was there to keep them afloat.

Mountains submerged into canyons under the weight

Of beautiful stories left unfinished.

Those empty hands are still eager to hold yours,

Searching eyes are still yearning to find yours.

The bottomless abyss of love and camaraderie is still falling,

Folding itself into itself, believing that someone will catch it…

– Rubani Kaur


Photography Credit: Unknown

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