By: Suman Mondal

When the Rain Recites

Imagine I arrive at your home, crawling
through the damp monsoon night –
petrichor rising from shriveled grasses,
musky pungent drifts in the air,
and you shedding teardrops.

The sonorous sounds of rain,
velvety muddy fields,
suffused with your tears.
your heartbeats vex you,
longing for hiraeth.

You ponder over your querencia,
wrapped in numinous lilt,
yearning for some soporific songs.

I will sense your feelings for hours,
without judgment –
a soft, white handkerchief
wiping your cheeks,
a forehead kiss.

If you ever feel the afflictions again,
the lays will heal you.

If I Ever Brood Over My Last Day

If I ever brood over my last day
on a speckled, cozy night,
with my dear ones around me,

My sighs would cease –
my eyes would close,
as pious drops of grief
slipped down my cheeks.

If I were born again,
my eyes would open –
and soon, I might venture
to the playground with my friends.
I would sense the redolent sighs,
and sit quietly on my mother’s lap.

I can’t stop pondering my last day
yet all I know is this –
a sweet life still babbles
with some unknown joy.

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Suman Mondal is a rising poet from West Bengal, India. His philosophical poems have been featured in The Statesman, a well-respected Indian newspaper. His other works have been published in Lekh magazine, Faith Hope & Fiction, Spillwords, and most recently in the festival issue of The Statesman. He has been shortlisted for the International Young Writers’ Weekly Prize and is currently pursuing an honours degree in English literature.