Shruti SareenIt is Always the Same Sunless Season Here
Black, overhanging clouds growl and smother
Not one piercing ray of light
The silent river is desperate for a gleam,
The lake beyond craves just a sparkle of light
A dance of sunbeams, just snatches stolen away
The leafless trees raise their arms heavenwards
Forever in supplication, in prayer, in penance,
In worship, in abjection, in restless longing
Their arms entwine and thrash and shake up
The entire sky with the dark clouds high above
The trees have no shadows because shadow too needs light
Rain never penetrates the clouds here
Water doesn’t evaporate without sun anyway
The only precipitation is as icicles and frost
Sticking rigidly, jaggedly, to the branches
The surface of the lake is glassy with ice
There are no birds on these trees, no sign of life
It is forever winter here,there is no spring
Nothing changes, nobody comes, nobody goes
No hope of spring coming, no hope of you
Time stands still in this seasonless place
It has been eighteen years.
Occasionally, very very occasionally
(We cannot say when, as there is no concept
of time here, nor are there any occasions)
The clouds may part for an instant
A glimpse of light may be caught
And its memory guarded jealously for years
This world revolves around these sightings,
Forever on the brink of imminent collapse.
