Immigrants

We belong
Neither in the clouds
Nor in the land.
The Clouds busy huddling together,
The land busy nurturing the natives,
We are the stranded drops:
Having not a leaf to claim us,
We hustle cloud to land
And land to cloud
Back and forth,
Forth and back:
Deceived by the assumed embraces,
Weighing a million pounds within:
The love mirages that flaunt us.
Yet, tirelessly we drag
Our bodies, souls and hearts
Scattered across space
Permanently torn
Seeking the sewing threads:
Threads to bridge earth and sky
Atleast the thread to sew our torn parts together. 
-Savitha 20.1.2024