This drop on the sill,
a distant cloud come home
on wings of heaviness,
or grief as I know.
One more sulking tide
at the shoulder of the bay,
limbless in the evening
like a loam of yesterday.
Panting fronds scribble
an invisible rune in the gust,
come back once more if you could,
those moments torn away.
It’s less than a hundred meters
from the rumbling within,
the rail tracks where the trains pass
like a whispered sin.
Nights glisten on leaves
of trees transfixed like snails,
knowing their way through the darkness
of one more soul impaled.
One Grain Amongst the Storm 
What a beautifully written poem. I realize you do write them but perhaps you should consider writing more? I was quite taken in. Be well.
Thanks for the thoughtful compliment: I have been meaning to write more.
Uma, this was like a tolling distant bell; melancholic and beautiful. Each stanza was a chime of a different aspect. It was utterly evocative.
Thanks Bruce. I too heard them as distant sighs of my heart, one by one.
These gently grieving drops are so redolent of these times, my friend
The times have certainly accentuated the emotions. Thank you, so much.
Oceanic feelings can be created from a drop. Wonderful.
Only a poet could have said that. Thanks.
I’m not a poet, so I don’t have the proper words to respond to your beautiful poem. But I loved how it expressed your emotions so eloquently, and how each stanza went a little bit deeper into the feelings of sadness and isolation. I may not be able to say it right, but I can promise you that I felt this one very much!
What you have said is a beautiful compliment. It is so true: better poems are felt before they can be put to paper.
If you squeezed these lines, they would gush tears.
I have held in much of my grief of late, and trying to read this aloud, all the tears came.
I find your writing unbearably honest. Some hold back because it is too painful. But you leave in all the pain, like a chef with habaneros, dropping them in, one after another
That is a stunning, unforgettable compliment! The metaphor of the cook with habaneros left me with a deep smile. And yet again, I have found that lingering exquisiteness of a poem lies as much in the sensibility of the reader as that of the poet.
I wish I had words to thank you enough.
Words tumbling out like torrents with the spotlight on emotions and vagaries of life, everything about this piece is mystical right from the title!
I am grateful for the compliment.
Poignant and tender!
Thank you, yet again!
Full of exquisite melancholy Uma, I loved those images, like the ‘sulking tide’, the ‘invisible rune’ and particularly the trains that pass ‘like whispered sin’.
Thank you, Andrea. I am happy the images worked for you.
Such a lovely and poignant poem, Uma!
Thank you ever so much, old friend!
Dear Uma, I haven’t been around for a long time. I am not my former self yet, I am trying hard to conceal this fact when I write my blogs, but I fail when it comes to writing a comment. This poem touched me deeply. The grief concealed. The longing. Whatever strength is left in me, I am sharing it with you. Be good, my friend.
Even when I don’t see your words here, I know you are out there somewhere mustering enough energy to overcome the trails of Comeragh mountains, always thinking what you can bring home to us. Nature in its infinite wisdom may have decided to withhold fresh sparks of energy from us, but it cannot dampen our desire to keep going. Thank you, for being my friend.
Always your friend. We will keep going, one step at a time.