In black night, wide awake to the howling and angst of the ruthless wind,
The thunder roared, rumbled repeatedly in waves of drum rolls.
Lashings of rain pelting metal roofs, drowning voices,
Held by swirling vortices of air and racing wind speeds.
She sent all creatures scurrying for shelter, huddled in terror and cold,
Whipped by strikes and wrath, without mercy
We lay low and humbled, silenced by her pre-monsoon fluster.
She is not asking to be managed. She just wants to feel met.
Not dismissed, not countered, and definitely not fixed.
The power goes without saying, the solar bulb lights up a grateful face.
All electrical and electronic unplugged. We have our torches at hand.
In bed we lay listening to the cacophony and symphony merged at play,
As she cries into the twilight painting the black canvas with strokes of gold.
She pours in ecstasy, in elation, letting the flow soften her plight,
Being up and close, her rawness awakens and intensifies all senses.
At last, the finale came, a descending arpeggio, a sigh of relief. Quietude.
Realisation dawns. We live in her, we are a part of her, we are her.
