Fallen Petals
Sweeping fallen petals
and leaves, the breeze
lifts them to the
skies.
They fly free of
roots.
They migrate, waft
touching clouds.
They no longer belong.
They flit. They float.
It’s hard not to be
part of a tree but,
as they drift, below
are specks of green.
The world seems
larger as they go
higher.
Roots no longer
matter.
There is only the
flight.
Home
Lotuses bloom in ponds
because that’s home,
where love lasts
forever.
Cactuses flower in
deserts.
The dryness adores
thorns.
Bright colours are
born.
And yet, there are
those wispy seeds
that waft windblown to
a new place
to bring joy to new
eyes.
A wisp lost in
unbelonging
finds its own home
wherever
love shelters it from
fiery storms.
Sunset and
Landings
The sky touches the
sea
at the horizon,
blending,
blurring lines as
cloud-ships waft
endlessly, towards a
seamless stretch.
There is no sky nor
sea,
only fields of cottony
white
tinged with grey and
gold,
and wingspans that
stay afloat.
Not a bird flies, nor
is there
a sign of life in the
azure
slowly turning to
dusk. A faint
glow of orange afar
turns dark.
The sun sets as the
ground
blinks jewels
awakening stories
of human life.
Abstruse, abstract
shadows disappear in neon lights.
Parakeets at Dusk
As the sky stretches
grey
with the dawning of
dusk,
clouds add contours.
Raucous flashes of
green
soar…
Flocks of parakeets
like floating leaves,
ascend from trees,
adding a dash of
colour,
bringing the Universe
within our grasp.
The plenitude calms.
The insignificance of
singeing sorrows blend
with the vastness of
life.
Gasping, I wait for
the
stars to rise.
Mitali Chakravarty has founded the Borderless Journal. Her writing has appeared in hardcopy and online, in anthologies, journals and newspapers. More recently her poetry has appeared in Dissident Voice, Countercurrents and Daily Star.
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