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Seasons

by Sneha Subramanian Kanta
(Mumbai, Maharashtra, India)

Empty lanes of life, season after season

This cyclic, never ending
aura of this monsoon;
we walked together battling the enormous
force of raindrops

they slap me on my face today
as if loving you were a sin I committed

I’m on the rooftop of my house
watching the late sun rise in winter
how we’d dreamt of giving each other
warmth

the heat my shawl gives me today is
unbearable

The koyal is singing a song
enchanting me to bring you along
i am tired,
the sun’s harsh rays beat my eyebrow

I find a piteous solace in the same
heat, burning myself now

It has been twelve years since this
momentum of time continues
it doesn’t stop---
i’m someone else’s wife today
forcibly, I lay
in someone else’s arms
making love out of meaningless
relationships
You left me ravaged
along the path…

and yet I have so much
to wonder about.

Years have passed
and i silently rebel through silence
the world seems to turn upside down

as this moonless night
i sit in the dark
and conjour verses for
those who i loved
and those who i’ve lost!

Dedicated to all those who've loved and lost due to peer pressure, caste biases and so on... In their silent tears is their love buried, tucked far from the maddening encroach of the world.

Comments for Seasons

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Dec 04, 2010
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thank you
by: Isabel Cecilia

Such beautiful poignant words...

Such great lost and yearnings you have painted completely with this poem.

Thank you for sharing and reaching/ touching our hearts.

Jul 22, 2010
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True
by: Mohit

Its so true sneha, as always a very nice piece of work. Keep writing.

Jun 26, 2010
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Very nice!
by: Anonymous

I would have liked this piece even more without the footnote (the dedication bit) because that would allow the reader to interpret in more ways than one.

Jun 19, 2010
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great
by: Anonymous

hey thats great.... keep writing

Jun 19, 2010
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Seasons
by: Eva Bell

Very touching poem. The pathos is gripping.
Loving and forcibly held apart - It is still the tragic fate of so many in India.
Keep churning out more poems.
Eva

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