Poem: Wet Verses in a Dry Life
How often have our work life turns dry?
Emails, contracts, conversations — all are made of words which are business and contractual, with no soul of humanity in them.
My search for some wet, moist human thing ended in two things — watching a single flower in an unwatered part near by my desk, and then the verses of my favorite poet Priya Patel.
Here is the inspired verse.
Poem: Wet Verses in a Dry Life
Honks of the angry cars
But the cool clime inside
Sleek seats and plush interiorsA noisy party happening
Moths in a dance of trance
Drinking the amber of street lightsBuried in bills and contracts
My calendar belongs to others
Free time is an eyesoreOnly email, messenger, video calls
Words like zombie, disembodied souls
Talking money and businessTrapped in the bottle of time
I work on my company’s vision
But cannot see my lifeAt the corner of my window
The little plant waits to be watered
But still it blooms — this I notice.I remember your smile
The silence of your verses
But the ding of the messageLike the flower plant
Your verses remind me
The tears wet my dry life.
~Ashok Subramanian © 2023
