Winter has to come

a poem by Sudhir Iyer

Spring brings forth
Summer months
and Summer urges
the rain to fall;
Monsoon leads
to the ‘Autumn’ way
while Autumn-
Autumn gives way
to the Wintered winds.

What else can I say?
Winter has to come.

With a charming war-cry,
a young one blooms-
a fresh bud peeks out
at a wide wild world
with smallish eyes!
The world, its people
appear bigger and larger
and the self smaller, helpless.

As infancy moves
yielding adolescence-
the bud uncurls
its first few petals–
starts speaking,
walking the first few steps,
unsteady, wary, tentative,
holding hands, hanging on.

Juvenility changes colours
from chubby cheeks to
enterprising, exuberant youth;
the petals now mostly uncurled
denim-clad designer wear-
first love, followed by first fall.
Flags of life unfurled-
learning the tricks of the trade.

A spouse hand-in-hand now-
a flower in full bloom-
all petals uncurled, as if enticing
the honey bee to seat itself,
leaves a sheltered home,
sailing for a New World
and conquer new mountains-
seeking greener pastures.

Middle-age blues
as the outer petals
curl inward in a
reversed first-gear-
pay raise, pot belly
children’s schooling
stressful pressures taking toll-
happiness is a stroll in the park.

Oh! Its time to retire,
see sons and daughters
getting married – grandchildren!
Neighbours all of a sudden
appear to be more like oneself-
wilting flowers, petals faded
wise one thinks world is smaller
than it once was – partly conquered!

And then arises a dawn when
everyone who loves, sheds tears,
as a finality becomes a reality-
The withering petals fall
down like dragon’s tears-
brave well-disguised mask
starts to drop like a snake
shedding yesterday’s skin.

Only the tendril remains!

Denuded and lonely – a walking stick
with nothing to support anymore!

What else can I say?
Winter had to come.

We, once green,
turned dark, greyed,
until white light of
wisdom shone bright.
That’s when winter airs
came and we went,
flying with the winds as
Spirits with newborn wings.

The whispering winds carry
souls to a distance, far away,
but we can’t fly forever.
We’ll return just as seasons change-
as Winter welcomes back the Spring-
to lend the colour once more,
this time to another bloom,
raising another war-cry
world appears wider yet again.