A Break for the Sky
A free-verse poem
The sky is a garage for our grief,
painted with our heartbreaks,
trauma, and 3 AM thoughts.
The sky cannot hold so much.
It vents out in different ways.
Snowfall is the sky’s monologue.
Soft, pure, and refined.
Hailstone is the sky’s grumbling.
Meaningless and complex.
Rainfall is the sky’s rant.
Angry, impactful, and sordid.
The sky cannot give up.
At its saturation point,
it weaves our grief into
hurricanes and tornadoes.
On days the sky is a clear blue,
it rejuvenates its vigour.
On days the sky is starry,
it heals itself from the
burden of our projected thoughts.
On days the sky is picturesque,
it doesn’t care about our grief.
Just because the sky is a
flexible stretch, it cannot hold
all our woes in its sturdy hands.
The sky too needs a break.
©Kavya Janani. U
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