Wetting My Sole

To Weigh In My Soul

It rained hard and ceased. They always do. My Venetian glass hazed by bundled rain tickling down; The places transparent Are my connect to the outer World — I see tall trees struggling to touch the azure flowing to infinity. Nope.It is we spinning and the clouds floating, having a field day, catching up with the sun, coming out of its den After a long hiatus. We call it monsoon down here. The after-rain asphalt slippery and shiny. Low sidewalk formed small puddles, which created Flamenco-splash, every time a vehicle marred over. I wished to be that winglet parched on the sturdy bough, and experience Rain as they would. No.I can’t. Humidity plays rougue with my bones They call it some Auto-Immune disorder, Restricting my outdoor activities — My bed-ridden days, judgemental words, And I-told-you-so-ers….. And I agree.

Then I don’t. I want to go out. Sniff the air smelling of rain. The after shower earth. Petrichor. Feel the rains crying Freedom. For once oblivious of my human impediments,I want to breathe life.

To wet my sole. To weigh in my soul.

I read this poem the-i-told-you-so-ers by Anthi Psomiadou yesterday and it did not leave till I could extract some juice out of it.My thought hovered for the whole day till night, when the verses flowed. The most organic one I have written thus far. No dictionary, no Thesaurus not a pause when writing. Thank you Anthi, for this wonderful granular poetic expression.

This poem is still not leaving me.So thought of tagging a few friends I made in this platform to write a few lines on this prompt which I am naming:

‘Wetting my Sole to Weigh in my Soul’

A.H. Mehr Dazzling Shene Sujona Chatterjee Orla Kenny E. Scott Alighieri Denise Darby ArtFor VOICES OF THE LOST George Ochsenfeld Bwalya Chanda Arbab Z. Brown Boi Poetic Therapy Hamsalekha Pratibha Mohanty Kacege Ali Rose Lee Little Monster

Do tag me if you decide to dance along and find your publication of chosing to park your thoughts.

Thanking everyone who cares to take note.