The Fan

It’s summer here all year, ma.

With the frequent burst of rain.

It’s really hard to remember anything…

Until I switch the fan off.

 

That’s when the silence seeps in

From under my closed eyelids and into my mind.

Images of home. So far away.

So difficult to remember in all the noise.

 

But the quiet, ma, is you.

The clarity of your voice is alarming.

And yet, it’s impossible to remember

Until I switch the fan off.

 

In the winters at home it was so quiet

When the rain came I used to dance

Then the summer came and I slept a lot

There was so much to care about ma!

 

Here, the fan keeps howling its illusions.

The noise keeps the world going. Round and round.

There is simply no quiet to remember in.

Until I switch the fan off.

 

It was brilliant, home, the seasons.

The tempers, the joy, the silence.

Curse the sun in May, bless it in December.

And yet, it’s so hard to remember.

 

But I’ll never forget ma. I’ll sweat.

And shut my eyes tightly closed.

Force back the winter dew’s scent

All I have to do is cut out the noise for a while.

So, I’ll just, switch the fan off.

 

 

 

 

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