It hasn’t been raining since it had.
I sound vague? You haven’t stared at
the spearhead of a midday road.
You haven’t tried to track rain and heard
the summer roar.
Everything set for the rain – that cup of tea,
those books and music, social media posts,
bad mood, sudden sex, uprooted sadness
that breathes on and perishes at the same time –
all hold a bowl.
No noise, tune, ting – the bowl remains
an arch of aching. It waits.
Nothing is nothingness; even a dry spell
gets wet with our sweating.
….
Kushal Poddar
Illustration Nick Victor
Kushal Poddar lives in Kolkata, India
@amazon.com/author/kushalpoddar_thepoet
Author Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/KushalTheWriter/
Twitter- https://twitter.com/Kushalpoe