‘The Monsoon Rain’-by Mohammad Hannan

It comes in mind before it really does,
And rains on our burnt-hearts.
It clears the skies and alleys of memories,
That silently pass by.
It settles the politics of floods and aids,
One can easily see,
Cleans and washes some of the faces
That once were your negligees.
The trees and crops so pesticided,
And people engulfed in earthly wiles,
The monsoon peeks in their minds,
The Goddess of freshness, Goddess of vine.

The rain connects the heavens and earth,
With long, gushing, water-chains,
And shackle your feeble gestures,
Inside your urban-veins.

It enriches the soil and flat-rivers,
With miraculous thunder bolts,
Nothing escaped, nothing skimmed,
From the whip of the monsoon knolls.

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