Beauty is not a sky that remains unchanged

The sky is not a mirror


on a freshly dressed day,

the cotton gauze clouds welcome

the blistering birds to come and rest.


I've begun to define beauty not as a sky signaling a skinned summer but rather

skin-toned,

but rather, beige

but rather, gentle

but rather, healing.


the monsoon rains come and wilt all memories of myself

washing away with it dried blood

the arrival of an antiseptic afternoon brings with it a realization:

beauty is not a sky that remains unchanged.


the city will have to adapt

to areas where the rain pools or the clouds darken

the sky is not a mirror, but rather

medicine


for the way light disperses is out of our control

but what isn't is where we let the dim sun at dawn glow


for once to wait and track

the trail their wounded wings will take

the promise lies of tenderness as a trade for nursing until night


which

is enough

is enough

is enough


for the city to accept its imperfect sight


 

Ummama Imran is an in-house writer at Perspective.





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