All September

All September, this city swathed in rain, sorrow has
prospered in the damp air and all the things we have

broken, we cannot put back: not like this monsoon
sky that will reset itself, no scratch, no seam, leaving

us to wonder — if we imagined all the grey mornings
after all the stormy nights, if touch, too, was a dream,

if water was an affliction, if detachment came from
the separation, or fastened itself to the silence (tiny

spores of colourless indifference, growing on a forever
bed of contoured waiting) — if in the molten dark, we

reached to wipe the washed light from the face of the
moon, skin brushing skin, strangers, in the silvery wet?



I was writing a set of “City Poems” last year that was supposed to organically grow into a chapbook of some sort. Of course, 2020 effectively destroyed all creative mind space and everything seems to be on some kind of endless pause. Somehow, from that muscle memory or from a sense of foreboding, this poem has emerged into the light. From comments and discussions, I can tell several poets are struggling to write. One left a message on my blog today that she hoped to be inspired to write again. This is probably the best thing we can do for each other – hope someone finds some words and hope those words will help us find ourselves.

4 thoughts on “All September

  1. The silence , the washed light from the face of the moon, the silvery light……words that breathe some light into my sagging spirit. I truly am struggling to write, hard to find any light to inject into a poem. Yet we need it so much. This is a wonderful poem, Rajani, and I hope that book comes to be. A winter project? I feel if rhetoric from south of the border would just stop, we could all take a deep breath and begin again. Darkness seems to be spreading everywhere – but that is just the time for lighter souls to rise. We live in hope. Stay safe.


    1. Yes, Sherry, beyond covid, there seems to be so much else that is pulling everyone down. Hopefully, the words will come and with them, some way out. Take care, Sherry. Hopefully, there will be a vaccine soon and life can return to whatever ‘normal’ was.


  2. Yes, perhaps we search, through our writing, for hints of hopeful light to guide us through days of darkness. It has taken many months for me to discover a new sense of creative urgency that my saddened soul must explore, and, as the first days of Autumn have come with clear blue skies to begin erasing the weeks of smokey Summer behind me, I can feel my heart start to pulse with the joy of being again.

    Please keep writing, I found your “City Poems” series richly captivating..I wish you well.

    tio stib


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