Inevitable Poem by Vishorag Shadja

This New Year's Eve,
Rains like,
Sand from a sieve…

I walk the beaten path,
Bearing,
This Rain's incredible wrath.

Where do I even go?
This Rain,
Making my journey slow.

I sigh in my mind's echo.
These puddles,
Were not as shallow…

Dodging bushes and thorns,
I walk,
Past the insects' and trees' scorns.

I will reach you in time,
A promise,
But how? A question sublime.

Lightning cracks & the trees sway…
I shudder,
And continue along the way…

I wake up with a jolt,
Unfazed yet baffled;
Shuddering from morning cold.

Without rest I writhe in pain,
But, work has to go on..
Despite scorns, puddles or rain…!