nostalgia

A raindrop fulfilling its tryst with the ground

Invoking a prayer, an incense of petrichor

Ensconced in the hum of a crowd around

Your body in the now, mind playing an encore

Of lives you never occupied, stories that do not belong

To your history, borrowed from someone unknown

An innocuous glimpse of a sepia tinted photograph

Evoking a sudden urge, the ache to be it

Inhabit the brown and dull orange hues

Ink spread across parchment pages, seeping

Into fibers that knew only white

And the fingertips that wove its rigidness

Textures beseeching errant fingers to touch

Explore the contours etched unto themselves

Yet shrinking inadvertently behind barriers

Of ignominy and trepidations, silvery, transparent

The blue building homes, turning yellow with time

Leaving a mark of living behind, spreading

Always spreading, seeking a place to reside

Searching for edges to colour, make familiar

We all search for belonging in spaces we occupy

Painting our secret wishes in vivid colours

Onto willing skin, and censoring it

With falsehoods that exact their price

Invisible but through conducive lenses

Polarizing our skin, until we are nothing

Less than rainbows.

- as