A patch of our own

A poem a day







6. A patch of our own

Wave your thousand palm trees

From the air, you are but a stamp
dull green patch of land upon blue swirls 

Nothing moves in me
or in the frame visibly though perhaps

you wave your unfurled dreams
and spew breaths in continuity  

How little a million lives matter 
when a plane crosses over a strange island
in seconds
How much a child’s scraped knee does
just because you feel you can stake a claim to it

©Reena Prasad

Lakshadweep probably... from a flight
Lakshadweep probably… from a flight





One thought on “A patch of our own

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