Holding short of Runway

 Holding short of runway

The red warm sun ray

touching not only my mole

but

penetrates through my soul

screaming aloud,

“Look where you are

and thank your stars”

shattering my Monday blues

into  poetry, prose and muse

Looking at the majestic sky

and a colourful butterfly 

flies on my windshield 

and 

my mental wounds get healed

when I could relate to butterfly

who took all hues from the sky 

A black bird flapping her wing 

plucking a golden string

in my heart to make me realise 

that I am a bird in disguise 

Whole sky is my home

Earth is where I roam

I roam for responsibilities 

and for other nitty grit-ties

Flying can’t be an ambition

It’s an act of devotion

It’s a pure form of meditation 

It’s my soul’s rendition

Pinks, tangerine and blues

The grand sky filled with hues

brings me out of mundane

it relieves me of the pain

Pain of separation from my son 

Home to airport is a long run

run of emotions and anxiety 

Finally I thank Almighty

when I hold short of runway 

and 

I feel the red warm sun-ray

touching not only my mole

but penetrates into my soul

screaming aloud,

“Look where you are

and thank your stars”

shattering my Monday blues

into  poetry, prose and muse

© Priya Jain