By Angeline Ajit
— will you remember me?
— yes.
— how?
in the reflection of rain,
there are thousands of you.
I am drowning in your monsoon.
the monsoon.
when the monsoon breaks and
the heavy rains pound the pavements and
gush into the drains with a hollow sucking noise —
my veins fill with rainwater and my lungs swell with dew.
I dance barefoot in the freezing, wet grass to
feel the numbness and know that by comparison,
I am no longer numb in the blood.
I remember you steaming black tea and sweet milk
over the kitchen fire.
we took in sips of basil and chai.
as the rain calms down, so do I.
so does the heat that burdens the earth till it floods.
the flood.
I soak up the flood because
like you, I too am rooted in this viridescent earth.
I sit in the soil and swim in mud until
my fingertips reach beneath the ground and
my soul extends to the tips of my petals.
I remember us making paper boats to send away down
streams of water flowing through rugged trails.
like the boats, I become undone, unraveled,
shivering apart in the slickened streets,
cleansed of my forced perfection.
I am freed by your expressions of love —
you let loose thousands of skies in my heart.
the sky.
the late afternoon sky turns a syrupy yellow and
your garden’s summer mangoes lose their tartness and
the midnight heavens thunder impotently.
your presence hits the bone-dry city streets,
wiping everything clean with its vigor.
I remember you running across the dreamscape
to retrieve the cotton clothes spread gently
on the rooftop to dry.
under a tapestry of threads,
you burn beautifully like a saint.
you lie within the sun’s reach.
the sun.
my eyes take in watery shafts of golden sunlight.
I remember peering out over the balcony with you.
we watched flower sellers and vegetable vendors pass by.
daylight kissed our dewy skin.
yet somehow, even in its striking glory,
the sun has never healed us quite like the storm.
the storm.
I remember you lighting candles around the house after
a thunderstorm knocked the power out.
I glow in the darkness and silence this stillness has created.
I bathe in the feeling of peace,
knowing I was safe and loved by you.
Angeline is a sophomore psychology major at the University of Texas at Austin. She enjoys fruits, 0.3mm
pens, and all forms of art, and hopes to externalize her love of the world through her writing.
Hot Pot Magazine 