the summer of separation

I am not the only one
to feel the pangs of separation.
The village pond waits for
the return of lilies
and the river bed
for the black clouds.
 
Is the short night the only solace?
Even for the leaves of the gulmohour?
It expands beyond the stars
as I toss and turn
and think of you.
 
In the morning the sunrise
is a glimmer of hope. Once again
short lived. The address is missing
I have only a vague idea
of where you are.
 
When the parched throat fumbles for words
I devise ways to forget you
by chasing away ants in mango trees
or inside the cool shrine of Lord Shiva
I hide myself
till the sweltering afternoon
kills my memory of everything.
 
With the sun defeated
it comes back in the evening
as the birds return home
after a tiring day
and lying on the cool river sand
I wait for the moon.

(Poem – 1 of the series on #IndianSeasons)