London Love through the Looking Lens
a photo-poem for separated soulmates
.
sometimes i wonder if
on a fine sunday morning
i should just look at
all the clocks in the world
and decide it is time
that it is time now
for me to pause again
between my strides
and look up for once
to the streets in the skies
for there are no borders
no immigration checks
to walk up there alone
and as i don’t plan to be
buckled down on a plane
neither government can
turn the seat-belt signs on
it is indeed time that
i leave my high perch
‘tween the two towers
of uncertainty and indecision
sometimes i wonder if
the skies will help
the two of us to meet
midway somewhere
on top of white clouds
or if
the skies will clear out
for us to draw new roads
from here to there and
set flagpoles at intersections
to mark our claim
on this uncharted world
but then again
sometimes i wonder if
we are meant at all
to take the shorter routes
of the open skies
we’re homing pigeons
for each other’s hearts
a direction etched
in perpetual memory
and thus we need to
stay put for now
till such times that
we have our ducks
set in parallel lines
and these lines
aligned together
will be our railroad
to an approaching future
more magical than
the present we are in.
on this railroad, i wonder if
we could be kids again
and take a magic express
to a Harry Potter world
where
we could actually step
into each other’s portraits
and not keep staring
at photos on our screens
where
with the softest of taps
we could open walls
and not beat our heads
against them all bloody
where
we could build our own
little Hogwarts castle
behind which the sun will set
into a night of sparkling stars
that will trickle down through
the ceilings of our bedrooms.
and until such times I wonder if
with each setting sun
i could look west
and keep my eyes from
wetting my cheeks
and with each rising sun
you could look east
and do the same
i wonder if
i can walk away
burying our sun
under a sidewalk
and hope it shines
on the cobblestones
you carefully tread on.
in such dark times i wonder if
this distance is only a rain
dancing on our windowsills
testing how far we can see
through its moistened glass
and how far we can lay still
under its pouring down
on the little spot we have
claimed as our own
i wonder if
when the rain is gone
and we too are gone,
our spot will still be around
now as i sleep i wonder if
this distance is not rain
but winds set loose
the nights our love’s
but a candle-flame
these winds threaten
to whoosh it out
but for the prayers
of our little home
and
the nights our love’s
a wilderness fire
the winds only
blaze us up anew,
for we’re stronger now
than we were before.
thank you for reading
credits
Sobhana Atluri for the photos
Minakhi Misra for the words
Baby Coconut for all the love
