Thank you, Namratha…we should assume that coming from up there, hopefully, there is a broader view that makes more sense than what we think we see through our windows … 😀
Rajani, so so powerful.. what rattles me most is that my unasked questions have answers from so ma ny corners that I know not which one to choose. It's becoming increasingly difficult to understand answers.
Thank you, Sonia... yes that is another kind of predicament..where none of the answers seem right...maybe we should both test them all for accuracy and trust our own instincts! But yes, it is a complex world!
Thanks so much, Ruth...it would be a different book, wouldn't it, if it only talked of how people sat and talked and laughed and enjoyed the sunshine!!
I love how your words, even when not apparently, are inundated with questions. We need to build them a home, to sit with them, to make them feel safe and validated without pushing for answers. It’s the only way we’ll hear the stars.
That's a deep thought, Mahdi...though I must think long about how to make the questions feel safe...I wonder if the seeker validates the questions or the other way round...but it must be that one day we can hear the stars! Thanks so much!!!
Thank you, Martha...it is surely there and we do go looking for it...but it is still not feeling very hopeful...we were almost at war and yet it is just one more conflict in a world on the brink. There aren't enough peacocks and rainbows and mountains :(
There are enough rainbows, peacocks and mountains. People just don't think that way, or look in their direction. I was scared when it looked like India and Pakistan would really go at it. The world is insane enough and that would be really insane. Even in my little paradise people seem to look for differences rather than points of commonality. I don't know why people need to define themselves against each other. It doesn't make sense to me and never has. It's very very sad.
I'm going to guess the antithesis to the next poem is amnesia of the loam where the next poem would have buried ahead of monsoon season. The perennial grey gone senile. A vastness without magnitude. The silence's all. So here's to the next poem's fertile failure to answer.
That's exactly how it feels, Brendan, thanks for saying it as it is. There are no answers, just endless grey...but if not poetry, then what...what form should the reply to the vastness take? I wish I knew the answer to that!
We're poets, our job is to bear witness to whatever magnitude is shaping what we see, feel and love. Half the time I bear witness to a failed magnitude.
Oh dear. An antithesis of color, of hope, of the pen and the sword. And throwing AI into the equation gives me an eerie presentiment of less hope than ever. Will we still get to choose how to live? This poem spirals around a core absence of answers, of seeds planted but not grown.
Thank you, Susan... it boils down to that as you rightly say - do we get to choose how to live...do we get to choose peace and hope and joy...perhaps the answers are within us waiting for the rain....
One of my new favourites of yours....I especially love the peacock spreading its wings.......
Thanks so much, Sherry... that is a wonderful, uplifting sight, isn't it!!!
@rena thanks so much for sharing 🙏
I relate to the feeling of holding back the questions, but I doubt the rattle of the rain knows anything more than we do...
Thank you, Namratha…we should assume that coming from up there, hopefully, there is a broader view that makes more sense than what we think we see through our windows … 😀
Such important questions, Rajani. Beautiful writing as always :)
Thanks so much, Nazish 🙏🙏
Rajani, so so powerful.. what rattles me most is that my unasked questions have answers from so ma ny corners that I know not which one to choose. It's becoming increasingly difficult to understand answers.
Thank you, Sonia... yes that is another kind of predicament..where none of the answers seem right...maybe we should both test them all for accuracy and trust our own instincts! But yes, it is a complex world!
This is fantastic. I especially love:
"What will history
be, I want to know, if we backspace all
the wars — what is the chronicle of
peace?"
Thanks so much, Ruth...it would be a different book, wouldn't it, if it only talked of how people sat and talked and laughed and enjoyed the sunshine!!
Hey Rajani,
I love how your words, even when not apparently, are inundated with questions. We need to build them a home, to sit with them, to make them feel safe and validated without pushing for answers. It’s the only way we’ll hear the stars.
Best,
Mahdi
That's a deep thought, Mahdi...though I must think long about how to make the questions feel safe...I wonder if the seeker validates the questions or the other way round...but it must be that one day we can hear the stars! Thanks so much!!!
I really like your closing line and question in this poem: "What is the antithesis of yet another poem?"
Thank you, Neil...sometimes poetry just feels meaningless when huge events are taking place around us....
Thank you for these questions, Rajani.
Thanks so much for reading, Paul.
THIS! If you have questions for the coming monsoon in your life, I’m certain you’ll find guidance in Rajani Radhakrishnan’s poem.
Thank you for your kind comment, Gary. 🙏
Your poem is making me thoughtful, or rather, my brain is wanting to follow all of your questions at once!
I wish I could find all the answers too!!! Thanks so much, Rebecca!
Here's the truth, "nature needs the whole spectrum of
colours to paint hope." It's always out there when I go looking for it.
Thank you, Martha...it is surely there and we do go looking for it...but it is still not feeling very hopeful...we were almost at war and yet it is just one more conflict in a world on the brink. There aren't enough peacocks and rainbows and mountains :(
There are enough rainbows, peacocks and mountains. People just don't think that way, or look in their direction. I was scared when it looked like India and Pakistan would really go at it. The world is insane enough and that would be really insane. Even in my little paradise people seem to look for differences rather than points of commonality. I don't know why people need to define themselves against each other. It doesn't make sense to me and never has. It's very very sad.
I'm going to guess the antithesis to the next poem is amnesia of the loam where the next poem would have buried ahead of monsoon season. The perennial grey gone senile. A vastness without magnitude. The silence's all. So here's to the next poem's fertile failure to answer.
That's exactly how it feels, Brendan, thanks for saying it as it is. There are no answers, just endless grey...but if not poetry, then what...what form should the reply to the vastness take? I wish I knew the answer to that!
We're poets, our job is to bear witness to whatever magnitude is shaping what we see, feel and love. Half the time I bear witness to a failed magnitude.
"nature needs the whole spectrum of
colours to paint hope."
Whereas the "perennial grey and a
damp lethargy provides more answers"
Oh dear. An antithesis of color, of hope, of the pen and the sword. And throwing AI into the equation gives me an eerie presentiment of less hope than ever. Will we still get to choose how to live? This poem spirals around a core absence of answers, of seeds planted but not grown.
Thank you, Susan... it boils down to that as you rightly say - do we get to choose how to live...do we get to choose peace and hope and joy...perhaps the answers are within us waiting for the rain....
Beautiful~
Thank you for reading so many poems…greatly appreciate your time and kind comments.
great title too!
Thanks so much, Samara 🙏