poetry wednesday: monsoon
Today is Wednesday. That means poetry here on 37days. And today’s poem is by a member of the VerbTribe online writing course that is ending tomorrow (and that ending is simply a new beginning for these amazing writers). I have been blessed to be their guide for these past 37 days. This poem is by Atiya Hussain who lives in Switzerland.
Monsoon
Bathed in the full moon’s light
I watch the big waves roll in.
Over me pour the cool gusts
Of wind that herald
The monsoon is just days away
The waves are huge now, swollen
With mud and sand from the bottom
Of the ocean. It’s a time of churning.
Even the surf looks muddy.
The monsoon is coming.
The wind is cool, a shock to
The still hot air over the land.
Technology may be colder but
This rush of air is cooling, refreshing
Steady and delicious, a slaking of the heat
That has baked our bodies for a year.
The boys have already found the places
Where the sea spills over, crashing
Splashing over paths that are normally dry.
People come to be blessed by the riotous,
Filthy water, throwing back at us all our junk.
Grey clouds come and go.
They will gather and build, crackling
With electric might. Thundering
They will announce the rain.
The first drops scatter, and we run …
The rains are here.
In fits and starts, the laden clouds settle over us
Some days, the heat is stifling, humid and close.
And then the skies pour down a rush of water.
A mist envelops the heavy lines of rain, as drops rebound,
Splatter, whipped ever smaller by the wind.
I wake and rush out to see the wonder of water, everywhere.
Coolness sprays all over me; droplets on my hair, my back, my arms.
In bed I will need a coverlet. What of that woman I saw
sleeping on the street, sodden covers at her feet and
over her head, an ugly yellow umbrella?
-Atiya Hussain
My thanks to Atiya for making this strong offer to the world. Here is the note that accompanied her submission:
Dear Patti, and why was this such a difficult thing to do, I don’t know? I really enjoyed writing this — it came directly out of the daily notes to self that I have been will continue trying to cultivate. I cried when I wrote it. I cried when I got feedback from verbtribers … And then it kept going, so I followed it … Your repeated instruction to offer it, and then stop thinking about it any further really helped me just enjoy the piece, enjoy my working on it, putting it together … when I separated myself from the fear/anticipation of how it would be welcomed, I realized how much I had enjoyed the process — that is a gift I will always thank you for.
Thank you, Atiya. May this be the first of many strong offers your voice will make to the world.
