Remote Monsoon, No Light in the Villages of India

Remote Monsoon, No Light in the Villages of India

The sky comes down without warning,

heavy as judgement, close as breath,

it falls over remote villages,

where roads forget their own names,

and maps end before the rain begins.

No electricity waits in the houses,

only the old dark, living and patient,

candles drowned before they are born,

lamps that never learned to stay lit,

and silence thick as wet earth.

The monsoon does not knock gently,

it enters through broken tin roofs,

through cracks in mud walls and memory,

turning sleeping floors into rivers,

turning homes into sinking stories.

In the fields the crops bend low,

not in prayer but in surrender,

rice and hope pulled under water,

roots loosened like forgotten promises,

lost beneath a rising brown tide.

Villagers stand with water at their knees,

holding children tighter than fear allows,

calling names into the storm’s mouth,

where sound dissolves before it is heard,

and answers never make it back.

The night has no lamps to guide it,

only lightning breaking the sky open,

for a second showing everything,

then taking it away again,

as if sight itself is a punishment.

And when the rain finally slows,

nothing returns to what it was before,

only mud, and silence, and broken ground,

villages still breathing, still standing,

but carrying the weight of the drowned.

India #monsoon #rains #floods #disaster #remotevillages #ruralIndia #storm #climate #weather #darkpoetry #sadpoetry #tragicpoetry #monsoonseason #naturaldisaster #rainstorm #mudwater #survival #loss #grief #naturepower #Marie381UkWrites #www #viral #poetrymagazines #facebook #twitter #instergrampoets #vocalmedia