Hiraeth

I plunge my fingers into the ocean

we call the sky and sift through the dreamy

translucent layers that are wings of

a broken butterfly hunched over

with sunlight streaming Β and i

play with the wispy clouds

like puffs from a fine cigar and

watch as the birds stretch their wings

to feel the wind bite into their

throats one last time and the ball of fire

that is saying goodbye drenches my nails

in liquid colours until they become

fire themselves

and one by one the stars appear

like a glimpse of a past long forgotten

guided by the imposter that brightens

the inky black of the nights

and my hands submerge into the sky

that swaddles its baby like a warm

blanket spotted with patches of

swirls and a bosom

of motherly affection,

the infinite that keeps us in place.

 

 

Rainbows

our spare room used to have blue sheer curtains

that shielded us from the rest of the world until we

realised that we didn’t want to hide anymore

and now we have no curtains just holes in the walls

called windows and it’s the best decision we ever made

because every morning the room gets flooded

with the richest shade of golden and then we watch

as clocks become obsolete and time is measured by

the mulberry hues that turn crimson and the twinkling

starlight that filters the darkness and as vanilla

and violets alternate to dance into our room

our bodies feel like art

and

our souls feel like rainbows.