Usually, as a poet, I am not moved by the rains. It’s kind of weird, I know. It’s a bummer! But that’s what happens to me. But this year, I don’t know what happened. A certain somebody drew my attention to the particularly heavy unseasonal rain in my town and suddenly words started forming in my head. I had to literally grab a pen and some paper from company stationery and scribble furiously to get everything down before the words got washed away in the deluge of emotions that it evoked in me.
An Unexpected Saviour
These dusty days are here to stay,
With their heat and sweat and blinding glare;
And lack of shade or shadow firm,
Till as far as the eye can see.
This lonely road upon which I walk,
Is fraught with absolutely naught,
But sand and rocks and sand some more;
Into the distance rises firm,
A dust-dervish that turns so fast,
That safety cautions me to move –
A little faster still.
A full-blown West Wind hurls at me
And tears form in my eyes;
It tears at me and scours my throat,
And burns my very being.
Just as despair and death creep in,
Does hope shows its blessed face,
And come pregnant clouds from that very West Wind,
That sought to destroy me.
They shower upon the disturbed sands,
To sooth them back to sleep;
Each drop a blessing in disguise,
That succour me from peril.
-Brendan-Anton R. Dabhi