Grey Day Amidst Purple, Red and Blue
~A Haibun~
©May 5th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Grey sky, goose-feathers,
And silver rain sliding down
What songs can be born?
Alone, I sit in my blue room with midnight blue curtains, and blue-saturated paintings, with a poster of Bleu, a film by Krzysztof Kieslowski on my left, and a huge bookshelf on my right. And I write, though I know not what I feel. Two birds arrested in mid-flight, one at each window, one made of straw, the other of metal, speak to me of long ago. Two long strands of blue decorative dangling things, with fish interspersed with small round, embroidered mirrors at my window, and a blue glass seahorse move lightly in an unseen draught of air. And beyond the glass windows stretches all that pearly grey. Oh yes, there are trees slowly learning to be green amidst the brown ones, and, if I stand and look out of the window, I can see the red splashes of tulips amidst the grey, like large drops of blood suspended in air, held up by delicate green stems below. And I feel nothing right now. I am a seeing creature, all eyes.
Tulips sing of blood
Lilacs bloom like light desire
I sink into sight.