If heaven exists, then perhaps every evening,
someone opens a small window up there.

Just enough to see.

That a woman keeps food outside her door for a stray.
In another place, a city is ablaze.

Someone leaves flowers on a grave, they still visit after twenty years.
A man teaches his son a hatred older than either of them.

Two strangers laugh so hard, they forget their grief for a moment.
A missile finds its address.

A child discovers a firefly.
An old man plants a tree for summers he will never see.

The oceans keep arriving at the shore.
Night after night. As if nothing happened.

And whoever is standing at the window stays there a while.
One hand against the glass. 

Watching. 
Wondering.

How do you regret a thing that is also capable of beauty?
And still find yourself at the window every evening.

- Neha Sharma