Heads In The Clouds

By Sharadhi Hegde

A grey day, a dull sky,

Bettered only by the clouds -

those soft beings

with hearts of steel

so hard & cold, yet of gold;

a metal, nonetheless.

They list to human cries,

those pale echoes of troubled souls haunted by shadows -

of hate, of love,

of joy, of sorrow,

of hope,

For an eternity.

And now, the clouds

have listened enough.

They bare their steeled, hardened hearts & let loose their own torrent

of cries, heard & unheard,

of despair, felt & suppressed,

of rage, quietened, contained,

so oppressing, for any to bear -

much less for those

milky messengers of the Heavens, bearing their anguish

of separation,

unending and eternal.

Years of torrentous passion, of agony,

They release with unbridled vehemence;

Untainted, untamed by the cries of mortals -

the cries they spent eternity listening to.

Down below, in the downpour

of the cries of the clouds,

Untainted by rain,

unaffected by thunderbolts,

Their faces lit by the spark

of lovelocked limerence,

They kiss. The rain

rages on, and the poets rejoice.

They have found a love "love" enough

for their sonnets, their limericks

of lovers, lost and found.

And yet,

The clouds,

the angels of the skies, 

lie forgotten by the poets,                                                                                                                       forsaken by the Gods,                                                                                                                              shunned by the mortals,                                                                                                                          unheeded, unsung.

There are always poems to be found

on lovers in the rain;

But who is there to write for the clouds,                                                                        

for their anguish, their cries

By Sharadhi Hegde