Patterns of Anonymity/Diffraction

Diffraction

Often, in the kaleidoscope of my life
I stop and look at the scattering light.
I see tiny hexagons
as peepholes.

When I bend over and look through them,
I see myself.
I see the world.

I see through these fragmented lenses
and I drink in
the colours of the sands,
the joy of laughter,
and the shades of sunset. 

I also see
unwritten love notes that you left
inside my books.
I see doves that come home to roost.
I see how your hair falls on your face,
and how, when I try to touch you,
you disappear.
I see the constellations of our conversations
sliding on the black canvas
stretching the length of my city
to yours.
I see those footsteps of mine
that found themselves into
alleys with no name and houses with no shame.
I see vast roads
reaching out
to meet the sky that bends over to touch it.
It does. I promise you. 

And I also see my bangles,
the ones I broke,
and their glass scatters light
sending it into different directions
such that it forms
gigantic semi-circular rainbows above my head.
And I watch in wonder
at the geometry of my life.

I watch in awe at my love, my quests,
my pain, and my perseverance
drawn neatly in circles,
rectangles, arcs, and even small dots. 

I watch as the light touches everything I see
and turns it into everything I want it to be.