THE CRUELEST MONTH OF ALL...

APRIL is the cruellest 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.

Isola di San Michele  by Invitation To Inspiration 

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow 

Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,  

You cannot say, or guess, for you know only 

A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, 

And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, 

And the dry stone no sound of water. Only 

There is shadow under this red rock,  

(Come in under the shadow of this red rock), 

And I will show you something different from either 

Your shadow at morning striding behind you 

Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; 

I will show you fear in a handful of dust

                                                     The Waste Land, T.S. Eliot (1922)

Eliot`s masterpiece is the sphinx of the poetry world. Although written 90 years ago, it still keeps its author`s mysteries and puzzles new readers with its numerous allusions. 

Intrigued by their aura of mystery, Invitation To Inspiration duo always think of these verses when time comes for April to knock on our door. 

We welcome April with all its mercy and cruelty... 

Hopefully, you`ll open your door to April, as well...