Damp

By Divya Gautam

Shrapnel is a word I admire
Cuts through you, brings you to attention
In this devastating doldrum of distractions
 
I like it more than I like asphalt, or rudder
Though I like them too
For their grit, their darkness,
Their absolute ruggedness in the rain
 
The rain turns a year older, again
Skies pleading to pour
Like my mind in its confines
Jostling between idealism and reality
 
I like reality more than my dreams 
This mirage is convincing, at least
It brings water to my feet, seasons to my skin
Rage through my chest
 
This despondence never helped anyone 
Mirages don’t shatter like mirrors 
They mould in the monsoon 
Uphold their existence in your eyes
 
I like the monsoon for this
This resilience it shovels into us
Submerged sharpness isn’t sharp at all 
Soaked wounds heal slowly
In this devastating doldrum of distractions