Somewhere a Skylight Opens Poem by K. Srilata

Black birds scatter,
slide off the tresses
of a rain tree
sunset lit.
Something returns to my heart,
past rib-cage, blood and bone,
something I don't have a word for.
Somewhere a skylight opens.

In the cupped hands of the ocean
lie many rivers.
Not a drop spills out the sides of the earth.
Something returns to my heart,
past rib-cage, blood and bone,
something I don't have a word for.
Somewhere a skylight opens.
On looking, I find this thing
for which I don't have a word.
It is a simple thing without frames.
A thing I want to sing of
even when the skylight only shows
black bits of night.