We painted a sky in pretty colours,
For our own had gone a stone-cold grey,
The sun outside shone bright,
But all the colours seem to have drained.
Wondering if there’s more to life
Than looking for all the ways to escape,
Or all the reasons to keep walking
A few more steps, just a little more today.
And should we fall, know there’s hope still,
We have many such storms to weather,
Our skies shall be bright once more,
So, write me a letter;
Tell me what your darkest days feel like,
Send your greyest clouds my way,
Perhaps it’s another picture to paint,
Or yet another dark day.
The air keeps getting colder,
Cutting right into the bone,
Yet, here we are, looking for colours
To paint something that’ll only ever fade.
For what joy do we inflict such misery?
Whatever do we have to gain?
What secrets do we have to hide
That we wash away with tears in the rain?
No colours that we can’t have,
No beauty that we cannot touch,
We hurt and heal so differently
But all just the very same,
Some of us watch the grey skies clear out,
While others choose to paint;
Aren’t we all just lost souls
Trying to find a way?
~© Shubhangi Srinivasan.
This is a poem about coping mechanisms, mostly. I paint skies whenever I’m feeling blue and it really helps. It’s probably just one of those things that helps me escape and be myself for a while, and I think we all have such coping mechanisms. We all handle things very differently and they’re all valid (well, mostly!). The reason I named this poem ‘Painted Skies’ is that they’re all very different, and yet, they’re all beautiful in their own ways. I wanted to reflect upon that through this poem and I don’t know if I did a good job of it, but it just came to me as I wondered about what I should write today. I hope you liked it!