A Short Grace To Monsoon

By T. Priyokumar

The sun is set behind the mountain,
A warm glow, a half halo,
For birds to wing to their heart,
Yes, swallows up and down,
And round and round.

The evening air, cool for aft the rain,
Heavy clouds yon mountain tops,
Yes, oh heart,
Its the monsoon herald.
Lord, thy light and thy rain,
As in thy fields,
I wonder what to plant in my heart,
That my love will reap –
So that her longing is filled.

For let her offer you –
Bright gold and silver glow,
Then it’s mine to pray.
Give her, Lord,
The shrill and sound of the lark,
And royally, of the elephant.

In thy monsoon, Lord,
Teach us all the sweat of labour,
And deliver us in the end –
As thou didst in the beginning.

The light in the west fades,
The early birds are gone,
And the ‘hari-nong-nang’ sings
The change of guards –
Darkness to reign,
Some to rest,
And some to life comes.

Ceaseless and endless in thy grace,
Grace – a memory returns,
Lord, I was asked to forget,
But that was wrong,
A spurt of the moment,
Let the monsoon rain wash,
The scar marks of time’s errors.
Adieu, Adieu.