Arrival in Mumbai
Between dusty high rises
peeling tuktuks and panipuri stands
pocket-sized jungles burst forth
spilling pink and green onto concrete
oozing out of caged windows
coexisting with trash piles and beeping drivers
and the heavy Mumbai air.
A quiet struggle lives here
a struggle to live, to breathe,
to move towards the good
and holy and plentiful.
I do not love cities—
cesspools of excess and corruption and end-stage capitalism.
But we don't live in a perfect world.
Like plants we seek what nourishes us
Like birds we dream of the sky.
The metropolis suffocates me
But it is the love of my fellow humans
That will always set me free