Star Gazing

Came home from class today and was forced to park in the parking lot of the baseball field next to our house since our driveway is still icy. It took me a while just to get it out of there while going to class this afternoon. And our front parking space was taken up by our other car. Anyways, it is so cold outside that I couldn’t wait to get inside. But I couldn’t help but stop to look up at the sky. It amazes me every time. The millions of stars staring down at us, like millions of fireflies dancing in the night sky. There they were and here was I, standing in the empty parking lot, freezing, my fingers about to fall off any second, my breath visible to the naked eye. I feel really small.

Light

Fireflies, tucked in, dreaming
Of dancing in the night sky,
Dancing with their light.
Tiny little wings, holding,
Carrying the weight of millions of tiny
Little dreams,
wishes, and
hopes. Their
Wings are so light and yet
They carry so much.

Wishes, stars in the evening sky,
Stars on the ground, stars everywhere.
Catch it and wish on its light.
Let it go.
It flies away to the heavens
With other wishes in tow.
Our wishes ,
clasped in between little tiny wings,
Remain unseen in the evening sky.

Photo Credit: Massimo Gugliucciello

Where I’m From

I am from Dhaka,
The heart of Bangladesh.
I am from the close-knit family
That always stood together under one shadow.
I am from my grandparent’s village,
Where the love of nature grew in my heart,
Just like it was there always.

I am from the grandparents
Who loved and raised me with care.
I am the love that loved them back
With all my heart.
I am from the birthdays and holidays
That we spent together.
I am from the respect where we used to go to the Shaheed Minar
To place flowers for the martyrs and freedom fighters
That sacrificed their lives
for our freedom.

I am from the blackouts,
Where we would gather around our uncle to hear stories,
From the peanuts
That we got from the peanut stand at the end of the street,
And when the lights came back on,
We would groan and turn them off again
To listen to the rest.
I am from my father,
From his childhood stories,
Some so funny that our stomachs hurt from laughing too much.
The Liberation War
Where he and his family were hiding from the Pakistani soldiers.
From the sadness
When my grandparents passed away.
I am from the empathy,
The feeling I feel for my father,
Who didn’t get a chance to see them
After we came to this foreign land.

I am from the memories,
Which I clutch to my heart every single day,
And never ever let go.