And The Boy Turns into a Poem

By Vaidehi Jha

It used to pain me to think

I'd never be a piece of poetry

That I'd stay flesh and bone weighed down

By viscous blood and a calcium core

To remain human is to be an unfinished thought

Like an excerpt from an unsung hymn

To be human is to have meek mortal minds

Puppeteering our souls to savour sin

So for once, I'd like not to be the poet

But the poem itself

To have each part of me admired for art

To be loved in whole, and not in parts

Inked into coffee freckled parchment

Every stroke with tender fervour

The dotted I's and the crossed t's

Trailing through time, lasting forever

For at the foot of the moon

In the dark applause of the leaves

What love has ever gone wrong?

What wrong has love ever done?

By Vaidehi Jha