sestina morya

you know, three is a crowd, don’t they always say?

then riddle me this: what do you call six?

there is a red silk thread shooting up to the stars, curling around the ankle of an astronaut,

and the string continues down to the earth, stretches across oceans, brushes over the petals of a chrysanthemum in a field,

and the string continues, painting the sky in pinks, blues, purples, reaching out to two twin blossoms held delicately between pressed fingers,

and the string continues, dances across sandy beaches in the blue of the morning, caressing the figure of a girl with a daring arm held to the sky,

and the string continues, washing the room in a gentle pink glow, lacing around the bubbly smile of a girl, delicate petals between her ribs,

and at last, the string continues, stretches across oceans, until it reaches inky black hair and closed eyelids, golden flowers and sunbeams tucked into a heroine, and there, the thread stretched across six points is complete.

because six is a set connected across seas, stamped into the world by inky words. because six is meeting each other against about a hundred odds, despite about a million probabilities of never crossing paths. because six is sisters etched into the stars, meant to find each other since the beginning.

because six is sestina morya. stretched across oceans.