 |
| Hema Savithri |
Hummingbird
Every morning
this tiny revolutionary
that crashes my windowsill,
refuses to ask permission.
He doesn’t care
about property lines,
about who owns what patch of sky,
about the way we cage ourselves
in concrete boxes.
His heartbeat: 1,200 beats per minute;
mine: barely breathing,
under the weight of my own thoughts
that long forgot how to fly.
He looks at me
with eyes that have
never signed a lease,
never punched a clock,
never apologized for existing.
Backwards
he flies,
defying gravity and capitalism
and every rule they taught us
about moving forward,
about progress,
about staying in line.
Those wings carry revolution:
iridescent green- blue fury
against a sky that belongs
to no one,
to everyone,
to him.
I want to learn this poetry,
this art of defiance,
of earthbound expectations,
this daily reminder that
small doesn’t mean powerless,
that I bloom in my own way
in my own time.
He vanishes
into the cluster of the trees
where darkness is the new light,
leaving me here
under a churning fan.
***
Bio: Hema Savithri holds a PhD in
English literature. Her published works include the novel “The Mysterious
Dance of Vintage Follies” and children’s fiction “Signal Zero
Escapades”, as well as two poetry collections: “Footprints from
Mist to Sand: Scoops of Lie, Life & Poetry” and “Fireflies”.
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