Transitions
Transitions and Contrasts: Just like the Seasons
Scorching, sweltering, drying, draining
The Candle of the Sky, now a supernova
Chirping birds cry out for drops of draught,
The strays of streets too, dying or suffering.
The poor farmer’s heart, broken,
Like his dry and barren field and feet.
His wife’s sweaty palms trying to support
The pot on her head, and the babe on her hip;
Her anchal over her face, trying in vain,
To shield it from heat and dust.
Fifty miles away,
The businessman complained,
His AC is not good enough, and he can’t sleep.
Then the rains come down,
Soaking the land, pleasing the heart.
Kids splashing and screaming,
Coffee mugs and snack trays steaming,
Isn’t it time for music and romance?
But the single mother who couldn’t go to work,
Worried about her leaking roof
And her child’s still wet school uniform.
Spring came, colours and flowers,
Is there a fragrance always in the air?
Butterflies and dragonflies shimmering,
It’s time for festivals, (is it Onam yet?)*
Shouldn’t there be new clothes and feasts?
Oh, but no one back home, no one remains.
And for the grandpa who is alone in the bungalow,
What for is Onam if he is alone?
Winter comes with lights, gifts and carols.
Shimmering stars, bells and beauty.
Christmas and New Year,
Glory to God and Peace on earth,
Beauty and smiles; love and hope,
But is there a hope for the freezing homeless
Their hunger and longing
For bread and lodging?
Autumn stood there, silent witness,
Forgotten, yet calm and composed.
Trying to get rid of the scorching heat,
Before the squall and cold numbness come.
And they repeat year after year,
Never letting the world forget,
All is dynamic,
Constant in its inconsistency
.We puny mortals, mere actors, observers,
Too turn sentimental, passionate and cold.
Shed tears like the monsoon,
Turn angry like summer,
Cold like the winter
And fragrant like the spring.
We see the pain around,
Sometimes lament, sometimes turn angry,
Often be apathetic but still hope for Spring.
*Onam is the spring festival of Kerala, a state in India which also marks reunion of families and
nostalgia for home. In the urbanised world often this gets ignored as family
reunions rarely happen, therefore dampening the spirit of the festival.
Copyright © Gowri Nandana | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment