Email Poem

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Poem
My Love,

The sky reminded me of you today.
The sun set in lilac with a teasing tinge of pink—
just the way you used to love it.

On other days, the sky is yellow and murky,
reeking of sulphur and carbon;
I feel suffocated in grandma’s old penthouse
(I sold off our homes the day after your funeral; 
they had too much of my mother and you 
in our footprints on the marble floors
and coffee mugs containing our midnight musings).
Twenty years ago, it used still used to smell like her—
the turmeric paste she used to put on her visage every Sunday,
and the pumpkin plants she used to cultivate in the backyard.

That yard is desolate now:
the trees are bones of wood that split the firmament into asymmetric parts—
I look for you in them;
sometimes I think you twinkle between the oak branch and magnolia branch—
you used to love playing in their treehouses
other times, I think you are amalgamated with the soils,
holding onto the roots of these towering creatures.
Will you hold onto them?
I fear they will collapse in a year or two,
taking away with them the memories of my childhood.

New folks have moved into our neighbourhood,
the neighbours keep changing 
and I am exhausted from remembering new names;
I know no more than their countenances.
They reek of youth—
their voices, clothes, laughter and scuffles.
I miss the days I used to be like them:
carefree, spreading my wings across a cerulean firmament 
like I had no destiny
only flying and flying to my heart’s delight.
Even then, I knew I had no destiny
but what felt liberating then feels caging now.
The sky is yellow and murky
every evening when I drink my tea, 
I look at the branches segregate it 
into parts of myself I’ve lost over the years.

My wings are worn thin 
and I think I’ve forgotten how to fly
(I stopped trying the day after your funeral).
I know not how many years I have
till the only home I can claim is my own body,
frail, bony, deteriorated and discarded.
Perhaps, the sky will offer me homage
even under its yellows and sulphurous smokes.

But today, the sky is lilac and pink
bringing you home to me.
Tell my mother and father that I love them
and Aunt Daisy that I read her remnant letters even now.

Today, the sky is lilac and pink,
and I can feel a blanket of warmth dissolving my loneliness.

I hope I can mend my wings again;
I’ll fly home to you.

Yours lovingly,
Mom.
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