by Baisali Chatterjee Dutt
You cannot stop the wind.
The wind will find a way to blow.
Over and around mountains.
Across deserts and oceans.
Through the eye of a needle,
along the eye of a storm.
You cannot stop her.
The wind is clever.
She will find that tiny sliver between your windows
and make her way in;
freezing your nose
and curling your toes,
laughing at your ‘cosy inside’.
She is indiscriminate,
playing with your hair
and leaves, alike.
She has no favourites.
She will cool sweaty brows
and fan forest fires
with equal measure.
So what are borders
and check posts to her?
She crosses them with nonchalance,
carrying pollen,
dust
and the ashes of the fallen.
How will you breathe now,
knowing as you do,
that you just might be inhaling,
the charred, invisible remains
of your neighbour,
your once-upon-a-time cousin,
your enemy-most-reviled?
Will you breathe out your hatred
and inhale grace?
Or will you stubbornly hold your breath,
cursing a wind
that knows no boundaries?