The whisper and the drizzle

I’ve always dreamt of
living in the mountains
with you; in a quaint,
little cottage with its
fireplace, and high,
vaulted ceiling. I’ve
dreamt of the two dogs
we’d own and the long
walks we’d take when
the mist kisses the pines
and the twilight caresses
the steeple of the old
cathedral with its delicate,
orange fingers. But lately
we’ve found ourselves in
a cul-de-sac of melancholy
circumscribed by
ramshackle huts,
trash bins and
thornbushes. You hold me,
say, “Things will get better,”
and I wish I could share
that sentiment, but years
of looking at the smog
licking the windowpane
with its sickly-yellow
tongue, and days
spent as a
miniature, stoic house
in a paperweight of ash
has made me realise
that even if we sprinkled
stardust on the
loner, he’ll still feel
the apple embedded in
his back. So, I hold you
and smile wistfully, thinking
of when we were younger,
and when the grey
skies of dusk
only spoke of soft rains.

© Nitin Lalit Murali (2020)

Photo by Philippe Tarbouriech on Unsplash

Poetry

6 Comments Leave a comment

  1. “when the grey
skies of dusk
only spoke of soft rains. “
    I see the significance of these lines – the use of words that you use for your tag line of your blog. I interpret these ‘soft rains’ as signifying hope, innocence, the purity and cocoon of the sound on the roof, without all the grime and disappointment accumulated from…life. What is your take on the meaning of ‘soft rain?’ I happen to love the image, and the word ‘soft.’ I have a poem in my drafts that begins ‘some days fall like rain, and some souls do too’. I haven’t got further than that but the feeling in my mind is ‘soft’ – quiet, gentle… without fuss, but still a fall, nonetheless.

    I find this poem so beautiful.

    • Thank you so much Rachel. Yes, I do interpret soft as a time when I was blissfully unaware of life’s woes because I possessed a certain innocence. It does signify hope, but perhaps a hope that can’t be reached now. I love the beginning of your poem, and I love your writing process. It’s quite different to mine. I write everything in one shot. But writing one beautiful line at a time is something I’ve always wanted to do. You know, a part of me wants to write a poem over the course of days – picking up where I left off. But then again inspiration doesn’t come easily to me. ‘Some days fall like rain, some souls do too’ has such subtle melancholy. It’s the sort of line that makes you ache, but not in a strong, kicking-you-in-the- gut way. I’m touched that you found this piece beautiful.

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