Trina Dutt

C’est les nuages.

[It’s the clouds]

Rivers, seas, volcanic eruptions, little children reading books, dragons playing games, dolphins skipping waves, raindrops, sundew, rainbows and limitless hues.

Where am I from?

Not a place, not a person, not a town, not a reason.

I’m from the heart, mind and soul of a little girl who’s simply trying her best to get through each day.

A girl of dreams, of thoughts, of memories, of plots (good, not the villainous kind, of course).

I’m from the smile that lingered past the sunshine’s play; the deepness of my breath that basked in the storm’s warm embrace.

I’m from the whispered conversations and raucous laughter between friends, foes and everyone in between.

I’m from the tears and teeth that tear through the meals of cities and continents; looking past reminiscence, relishing in the presents, forgoing the far future for feasts of nearer blessings.

I’m from my mother’s womb, my father’s gregarious nature, my family’s eternal pillars of support - as well as the perennial gushing stream of drama borne from them. From acquaintances, acquittals, lovers and rivals; from the transience of life and the ubiquitous truth of ever-changing time.

I’m from the stage, the spotlight, the benches, the long nights; the songs, the dances, the theatre and collective heights - walking with people, places, perspectives and phases.

I’m from a culture I rarely visit, yet it comes knocking on my door like a good Samaritan - grounding my roots though my branches sway in the symphony of cosmopolitan compositions.

I’m from a culture I live in and unknowingly has benignly come to live in me - seems that I’m a welcoming abode, an evolving ode.

I’m from cultures I imbibe - languages and letters and laddoos and layouts.

Where am I from?

I’m from the clouds that rain a little love, life and petrichor every now and then.

They simmer in mauves with silver linings, and roar in reds with pink-laced petals. They swim in the blues of days long past years, and soar in yellows that yearn to be golden.

I’m from the clouds that rage with power, mirth, renewal and rebirth

They roll over one another, confused in ambivalence - leaving patterns of dynamics that keep eyes wide awake.

Where am I from?

Well,

I’m from the heart, mind and soul of a little girl who’s simply trying her best to get through each day.