Prose and Poetry
Star-Crossed - Harini S - Batch of 2019
The grass is always greener on the other side
At least that's what they said all the time.
But I never cared about the green.
The blue is what mattered to me,
Especially the blue on the other side
The glorious colour filling up the sky.
But it was never quite enough for my eyes,
Drinking up everything they could see thirstily
And I fervently hoped they could see more
See just past that point where you met with the sea
The place where you were closest to me.
How cruel is it that we are separated by this wretched stretch of water?
How tragic is it that we could never truly meet?
The envy festered deep inside of me
At the sea for daring to touch you.
What audacity does it have to think itself worthy
To think itself as your equal
When all that it's capable of
Is it to be a pale imitation of you
I scoffed at these books
Telling me it reflected your hue
As if it could ever capture you.
Whenever the night arrived, you went into hiding
And a black expanse took your place.
I stared and stared at this forlorn space
Thinking that if I just tried enough
I could look through it to you
But all I ever saw were the stars
Twinkling, as if they were laughing at my misery
Perhaps this was what they meant by star-crossed lovers.
And I wondered, albeit foolishly,
If I just jumped into the sea
And swam to the horizon,
Then maybe, just maybe, I could finally meet you
And would you enjoy meeting me?
Your bewitched admirer from across the sea.
Thinking about it, maybe it isn't half as mad
So with a newfound resolve, I put myself on a boat
Maybe this could be a moment about which historians wrote
Of the ethereal goddess and her lovesick devout
Separated by everything that's inconsequential now
Because I'm getting closer to you with every row.
When suddenly your image gets veiled
By a huge wave of water determined to make me fail
The ocean, my perpetual nemesis
Forever vowed to keep us apart even if it's my very last wish.
And I think about that old woman
I came across at a temple when I was little
Who looked up at you and whispered something about a "heaven"
As I gaze at you now, from underneath the surface
Just as the cold water fills my lungs
I think, "how fitting indeed".