It Does Not Rain Hopes Anywhere

An evocative poem that talks about rain, city life and the ills of urbanisation, by Mamta, exclusively for Different Truths.

Every day my son anxiously checks

The weather reports on his smartphone

All day he is morose

For the predictions too betray his hopes

Like everything else

The exclusion from an important college debate

He had pinned his hopes on

The research paper that he had submitted for a weighty periodical

‘Too verbose’, was the rejection remark that bled him dry

How do I tell him to siphon off his dismay

Heaviness that is profound, endless, distended

Scabs will keep falling off from wounds

Only the gashes will get deeper with age

In a world lavish with self-obsession

Each for himself and each by himself

The guiding principle of a stunted society

The finishing line is mostly out of reach

Quietly I beg him to weep

My own tears perspiring my whole being.

©Mamta Joshi

Photo from the Internet

#Poem #Tears ##SelfObsession #Rain #City #DifferentTruths

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