Raiment of Rain
Importunate hillsblocking the rain’s
move to disruption.
Rains,
when schisms are shallow,
and the hard dry earth
swallows insects in
cracks of mud, soil,
leftovers of the wet earth.
Solitude is a song,
skies are murky, stones
pave way for dying.
Rains, you leave me in stupor.
You hide among cracks of these
hills. You disappear when we
simply dream (of you).
You can never tell the fireflies,
chanting death strains of a long time
memory,
the myths of these hills.
Come, tell me stories
of when you first came
to these ancient hills,
or those of the rains
in this hill town,
whose ancient relics meander
in the raiment of rain.
Ananya S Guha lives in Shillong in North East India. He has been writing and publishing poetry for over forty years. He holds a doctoral on the novels of William Golding. Facebook: Ananya S Guha.
Banner/ Art: Distorted Field, On Passing an image collage by Robert Frede Kenter.
