april notes, diary

 

April is the cruelest month
breeding Lilacs out of the dead land
mixing Memory and desire
stirring dull roots with spring rain
Winter kept us warm
covering Earth in forgetful snow
feeding a little life with dried tubers
 from 'the Waste Land' by T.S. Eliot



Seeing Eliot being this cynical and cold to spring, 'mixing memory and desire' that spring has brought him must be once too much of beauty that puts him in despair as he knows it was too beautiful to happen twice in his life.
What could it be? beautiful reminiscence of old love? old good days? or... the reality he's facing that dampened his spirit whenever he recognizes the brilliant spring around him?


April is the cruelest month.
It is true.
But still it's so cruel to name it the cruelest month out of so many adjectives that can identify it,
not to mention, if you have ever sneezed out of pollen on the picnic, if you have ever been allowed to enjoy the spring breeze at night on the bike.

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