Written by Sadhika Ganguli
I saw a Rothko in person
and it felt like an enlarged part
of something Monet
would paint.
my eyes saw the two hues
of magenta and royal blue
and suddenly without warning,
i was taken to
a field of haystacks on a
summer morning.
5am and my barefoot feet
are
sinking
into
dew
i’ve been whisked away into
a light blue garden of peace
where the haystacks and i meet.
i’ve always adored serene
and quiet scenes,
not like a loud film on a screen,
but a place where i can greet the
green blades of grass that
Whitman once praised!
i wish that one of these days
i can be in
my own quiet haze:
where my only divide
is the nose between my eyes
the spaces in between the lines
and the blades of grass in the dew.
for a moment i was there
(dawn’s mist still felt in my hair)
but now my feet are covered
with socks and shoes
and i am in a crowded room
surrounded by absent-minded
people in an art museum.