
Snapshots of two and
three thousand diamonds dart
into the clouds, enemies
in the sky though friends
at the end of the lines.
Dotted sky blue but dying red,
ready? If not, go below
the din made of
music and lanterns that soar
while slashing strings dance
like hundred-meter tiptoes.
Ten million baskets of
fire float in breezes
too strong to carry the birds
safely home,
so we walk the streets
where glass used to fall.
Thunder of a thousand
simultaneous explosions
echoes against the crags
of generations all dancing
on the roofs of their home.
You try now, tug
when the nose is towards
the setting sun, now
lower than it was
when I used to
fly kites all day.
Kaleidoscope sky against
white, rolling, smog;
more shards of translucent paper
than build the cathedral
windows of my vision.
Tonight the family across
the road sings karaoke
and the lantern that fell
burns slowly
in the fading light of January.
Jaipur roars together
at the light now dimmed
but full of explosives
illuminating the rich
and the poor with
the same impermanent flashes.
Photo credits: Ziv Batscha, Sarah Messner, Peter Scharer