A PALETTE OF LIGHT AND SHADE

The alleys of my mind
Take a winding route,
Forever trying to catch up
With the real me, the whole of me.

Am I the colour of my skin?
Defined by my birth motherland,
Anointed by my adopted motherland,
Or in no man’s land?

Am I like the budding hope of spring,
The unashamed bloom of summer,
Like the mellow crackling of autumn
Or the dreary grey of winter?

Am I the foreigner, the immigrant,
The second-tier citizen, the interloper?
Or a multicultural, able adaptor,
A friend, colleague, key worker, and leader.

Is there space for me, all of me?
Or shall I live my life
As a series of halves,
The segments of an arc, never the full circle?

My meandering thoughts
As always, find refuge in the womb of nature,
Where one tableau flows into another
As frames of a movie coming together.

For the sun is low, then high,
Fiercely bright, then hidden behind clouds,
The moon curves into a sliver, disappears,
And becomes whole again.

My shadow shrinks under the noon sun
And grows tall at the edge of daylight.
Sometimes I whimper and whisper,
At others, burst into glorious song.

I straddle two lands
And the turbulent seas.
These shifting, lifting shades
Are all part of my palette, the whole of me.

———

• Kishore Chandiraani
• Consultant Psychiatrist, Emotions Clinic Education and Training Centre, Staffordshire. England
• www.undoyourstress.com