Meanings,Purpose and Light

By Priya   

Dear Priya:

Your poem has been received for the Blue Mountain Arts, Inc. Poetry Card Contest as follows:

Your Name: Priya Binwal

It's a seven letter word-'meaning' and we're both looking for it.
You seek it in the wilderness.It can get too quiet there.
I paint the sun blue,hoping that it will lessen the heat.
You ride on weather beaten boats and dive in the Marina Trench.It's deep and I'm afraid.
So instead I build treehouses on mango trees to get a good view of the fair world.
You make paper planes and send them zooming into the air.
And when the big-toothed boy catches them he smiles a goofy smile because he doesn't know how to make one.
I teach him the subtle art of paper folding and when he makes his first one,it's made out of the yellow paper on which he once wrote,
"Dear Dad,
I hope you are doing well with God there because he hasn't been too kind to us."
And from that treehouse up there, we both look out but you don't take photographs because there's nothing to see.
There' nothing to see because the world is too engaged in war and hatred while we're both looking for meaning.Seems like they haven't found it too.

It's a seven letter word-'promise'and you don't know when you make one.
We're in the backseat of your car and you lock your little finger with mine-promising me a forever.
But the old woman is ninety and she sits alone on the park bench.
She has weary eyes and her face is so wrinkled that the neighbours are afraid to look.
She tells me of the time before her husband left for war.
And all that came back was a military uniform and a bag of condolences.
She pulls her overcoat closer to herself.Her grip is firm.
These are the hands that last held the soldier that night in fall and I can't help but notice the wedding ring on the left one.
And back in the backseat of your car,you break the interlock and pull me closer.I rest my head in the curve of your neck and we close our eyes.
There is no forever.
Not when you can't touch things and be sure they'd be there the next day.

It's a five letter word-'light' and everyone I think has got some of it.
There's too much of it when you have those fireworks.
But when the last one is burnt and gone,the smoke left behind is so thick that I hardly see anything.
But the boy with the goofy smile,he gets these strange flashes of light everytime he thinks of the days when his dad brought him chocolate and he never had enough of it.
So when you click photographs,I always close my eyes because flashes-
they're always too strong.

It' s a four letter word-'rain' and it's a funny thing how it doesn't wet everyone the same way.
And I actually haven't climbed many mountains in my life and nor have you-but we both know that feeling of listening to your voice echo in valleys where there is nothing but wildflower.
And I haven't watched many sunsets but that's exactly why I wake up each morning at 5 pm to see the sun rise.
The sky in the mornings has an orange tint to it but in the afternoon when it gets cloudy,it can also get grey black.

You say you don't need the umbrella because no matter how tight you wear the raincoat,you always get wet.
No matter how hard you shut the window, a stray drop always finds its
way in.
And sometimes-just sometimes I think,the best way to to find meaning is to watch fingers move on the piano,
the best way to keep a promise is not to make one,
and the best way to find light is to go hunting shadows

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