Another Season

They said today, the monsoon will arrive in the first week of
June. Like it always does. We outlast summer because we know

the wet will come. We survive the rains because we know that
by Diwali, the clouds will begin their retreat. We get through the

festive season because the cold numbs our fevered brow. In April,
the first mangoes will ripen in the sun. There is always another

season. There is always another reason. One more transformation. One
more repetition. Our mortality is never in question as long as the variables

are constant. It is the unchanging that we fear. A forever downpour.
An endless summer. A predictable love. A world refusing to fall apart.

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40 thoughts on “Another Season

  1. Rajani, your poem is a reminder that seasons are experienced differently in other parts of the world, especially in the way that the monsoon falls heavily in the opening lines and the idea of survival echoes throughout. In April we have blossoms while in your poem the first mangoes ripen in the sun, a delicious and beautiful image. I love the internal rhyme of ‘There is always another season. There is always another reason’, which sounds as if it is being muttered under the breath, and the list of three in the final line – a perfect ending.

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    1. Thanks so much, Kim. Yes the seasons are very different but the human experience of hope or despair is essentially the same, I think. The world outside our windows becomes the backdrop for our poems… but everywhere, I think we’re writing about the same feelings…and that makes it so much more beautiful!

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  2. Let’s hope the world keeps refusing to fall apart. The dependability of the monsoons is comforting. Here in the rainforest, we had no rain all winter. Now we are having an occasional sprinkle and wildfires are already burning in the province. Most alarming. I loved your poem.

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    1. They’re not that dependable- the intensity is variable- there has been severe drought from failed monsoons and devastating floods as well… with horrible consequences. But people are dependent on the rains…

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  3. People’s spirits are easily ground down by that feeling of unchangingness, as sure as hard stone gets worn down into fine sand by the steady pummeling of the sea.

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  4. .” Our mortality is never in question as long as the variables are constant.”

    There’s simply no way to argue with the truth of this stellar line. Well done!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Just a couple of days ago, I was taking pictures of dead flowers in our community garden… A neighbor asked if I didn’t find the task a bit depressing, the garden looked so sad. I told her no. We live in circles, hope comes when we notice and appreciate the changes between the turns, when we remember that something else (that can be good) will come…

    Your poem made me think of that.

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    1. That’s a refreshing thought! But in this part of the world, hope is also a privilege. You can see the worst of the weather affect those who already have so little, that just survival is a huge battle they fight every single day. The world can be intensely unfair…

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  6. I was thinking how beautiful your poem was and then the surprise ending “The world refusing to fall apart” kacknowledgin clearly that how we the world we know and trust is not always ging to be our friend and sustainer. I wish I had written it!

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    1. Yes.. the effects are being felt everywhere… and with terrible consequences sometimes. We just had an unprecedented April cyclone in which many people sadly lost their lives.

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