Sky carries light in more than one direction.
Not confusion.
Not noise.
Only what the heart could not return to silence.
...
Spot me...Between the Lines...!
When morning searches for beauty, Shamie, it finds your forehead first,
Its quiet brightness smoother than a mirror before the first hand touches it.
...
Ashirafu Miiro is a Ugandan poet, environmental chemist, educator, and researcher whose writing explores the intersection of love, hope, nature, faith, social justice, and the human experience. His poetry is inspired by everyday life, personal reflection, and the beauty and resilience found in ordinary people. Alongside his literary work, he conducts research in environmental chemistry with a focus on emerging contaminants and water quality in Africa. This scientific background shapes his appreciation of nature and frequently influences the themes and imagery in his poems. Through every verse, Ashirafu seeks to inspire, comfort, and encourage thoughtful reflection. He believes poetry has the power to connect hearts, preserve memories, and give voice to emotions that are often left unspoken.)
Miiro Love Pentagon (Sky's Orbit)
Sky carries light in more than one direction.
Not confusion.
Not noise.
Only what the heart could not return to silence.
---
Sky met Sonnet in 2017.
Makerere University. First year.
Different discussion groups.
Same air.
She moved closer
just to listen to his voice.
People saw a match.
Inside them, nothing was spoken.
Only distance that learned to sit beside closeness.
She turned away others.
Sky turned away words.
Years did not resolve it.
They only passed through it.
On 19th February 2022,
she became someone else's wife.
Sky attended the wedding.
Not as a closure,
but as continuity of something unfinished.
Even now,
that silence has not fully left.
It only changed shape.
---
Shamirah lives in a nearer kind of distance.
One message.
One call.
One breath away.
Her handwriting feels like order
placed gently on confusion.
Her presence is warmth without effort,
laughter that does not ask permission to remain.
Between Africa and the United Kingdom
the world reduces itself to screens.
And yet,
some lines remain un-crossable.
She is family.
And that is where language stops,
even when feeling does not.
---
Now there is another light.
A staff room.
Day three.
A girl in hijab enters the space
like calm entering noise.
Soft brightness.
Like a candle seen through glass.
'Salam, ' she says.
Sky replies.
She passes.
A paper falls.
She bends.
Time bends with it.
Later she returns with questions.
And thought loses structure
for a moment too honest to explain.
Only presence speaks.
Not words.
Not decision.
Only awareness.
---
Three lights.
One already belongs to memory.
One belongs to distance.
One belongs to now.
Sky does not resolve them.
He only lives inside their gravity.
And calls it love.
If love was a fruit, I could only eat its seeds, and all of them.
A time will come when I, myself, and all of you reading this will be as if we never existed on Earth. Please, in this present moment as you read this, make a supplication (dua) for us. I am writing this on 2nd July 2026.
If you are good, Allah will make you meet good people, and even better than you, so you sit among their ways. Similarly, if you are bad-hearted, you will meet fellow bad people and compete in badness.