This good morning in late July
raining hard
and the moving hills
treading gently on my heart,
reflecting on a lost election,
brings to mind the other victories
too shy to enter the warmth of our world:
waiting to be born,
still-born now, sometimes aborted,
always malnourished,
always, always poor.
I think of how the earth yawned
as we passed by cursing bitterly
the rain, the puddles, the mud.
But last night I stopped
and let the earth turn
in its immemorial rotation
for we have had to measure victory
not by how far we have come
but the reluctant tears that swell in vacant eyes,
the amount of ground retain,
the few square inches for laughter
the few cubic inches in our hearts
for love.
Hantane
July 1992
[from the collection 'Epistles: 1984-1996]
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No one can curse the rain even if it sometimes hurt people by ruining the paddy, flooding etc.. but children love to sail boats when it rains...we all love rain it is so dear and near to all of us ... it brings freshness laughter and it fills lovers hearts with love.
ReplyDeleteyou have written this in a so beautiful way...