
Half a Sky
A spoken word piece by Ice Arrojado Basit
Today, the heaven’s grey again —at least on my patch of earth. The one where I stand still; one hand holding off the hands of time, the other holding on to the final second, before your fingers took off from mine.
I’m trying to figure out at which point –and why– the sun has shone warmer on your side, and casted shadows over mine. If I heeded the storm clouds' rumble, could I have saved you and I?
I never imagined heaven could split, though I'm glad to see you seize each day, whilst I run to escape the darkness's cold bite —love, will you tell me how it happened, that the world turned with you when you walked, and all I'm left with is half a sky?
And the songs of birds flew with you, painting sweet daydreams when you rest your eyes. All I hear now are haunting memories from the crows on my shoulders, bidding me good night, good night...
