Debarati’s poem, exclusively for Different Truths, evokes a melancholic awakening in April, where past sorrows and the harsh reality of summer shatter fragile hope and inner peace.
'April is the cruellest month',
nesting sombre memories in a forlorn heart. Like a loony, I wake up from my winter sleep to find summer's blazing sun burning my dreamy iris.
The jagged end of decaying desires tears through my pallid skin,
making tears ooze out like molten wax.
As the 'burnt-out end of smoky days' takes over spring's verdant hues,
a lackadaisical moth hovers over my battered youth.
'April is the cruellest month',
making me lose my battle against myself.
Picture design by Anumita Roy