Umbrella
Umbrella
When, picking up from where it left off last,
the gales begin to blast the good rudders,
anchors or anything that underpins
a muslin day or when, ineluctably
caught up in the searing frenzy of
earthly pangs shaking up the innards of
another silken day or again, when
the carefully manufactured myth of
social ceremony needs to be propped
up with the vigorous mien of a noble
bearing, one seeks out the folded up,
dormant vitality from some corner
of one’s psyche, dusts it, opens it up
and finds under it relief, rest or class.
By S.Jagathsimhan Nair
Form: Sonnet
27-3-14
For Kelly Deschler's contest
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