I’m sending a letter across the valley
This letter doesn’t follow any format
If it finds you, read out loud, wherever you are, read out loud –
My greetings to the beautiful people of the beautiful valley
We might not know each other
We are incognizant of each other’s face
But I have read about you
I know you have crisp nose and peaches instead of cheeks
I wonder about the peculiarities in which you are sewed up
I want to construe your smile
We are always curious about the work of art we haven’t seen, aren’t we?
I want to read that story, that reminiscent story traced by your eyes. Is it even prettier than your smile?
Does it have the same shade of scarlet that your lips do? Tell me how does it folds your pretty secrets,
And rises a shield of sheer perfectness, flawlessness
And how does your snowy teeth cut the air as you explode the words you speak
I want to tell you that I have grown towards you, passably.
I wrote a few letters, a poem or two
Tell me your boundaries, its longitude and its latitude, I’ll mark them well on the letter
I’ll make sure they reach you. I’ll make sure they move you.
I’ll ingest what you teach, I’ll obey each syllable as a naïve child obeys their parent.
I want to assimilate the beauty of each word and pack them
And carry them to the deepest corners of me
Which are filled with snapdragons and knapweeds
As I anagram my daydream, queerness surrounds, asks,
How could I irrevocably love foreign land, birds and air?
Language, signboards and cuisine, you show up in my dream
Chant like a goddess, they are not polar, they are everywhere
I have heard it on the grapevine, it can get a little knotty to reach you
I’ll have to cut though snow and track you down
For I could be effaced from minds of people I know but my love will always grow,
For the beauty that I have dreamt of,
For the innocence your eyes holds, I clasp my hands
If only I could hold your pastel hands
The tides will change directions and oceans would turn occur
If only I could enter your eyes,
Languages will hug one another,
If only the boundaries were manned by songbirds,
There will be new comely patterns on the map
If only I could ask you, without wavering
Do you bleed like me?
Or do I bleed like you?
Presently pursuing her Bachelors in Architecture, Neha Bhatt is from Mumbai. She is an emerging poet who loves to read, is a crazy potter-head and caffeine fanatic.