It was a pill to be swallowed
but it got stuck on my throat.
It was a fish out of the water,
the dancing wave is just behind her.
It was the cool wind that blossomed,
into a sinister moonsoon.
It was a season of love
when the odds were lovelier.
It was a curse at daybreak
when a prayer was chanted.
It was a giant hollow tree,
an ink-splattered letter,
it was the crisp of the catastrophe,
it was the countdown of what mattered.
I thought of this things lately,
when I'm in an airplane mode.
I swear I have gone to brighter places
already,
but I could only see the silver linings
on the dark road.
This is to say that I am now fine
even when I post notes about eclipses
and how an era is marked by
rituals done when daylight becomes
night,
do we pray? Do we play drums
and offer blood?
Do we wage a war?
Or chant a rhyme about our time?
Or do we wear sunglasses
and look directly at the sun,
finally able to see it like
face to face, for one last time?