We don't believe in rain anymore

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Write it and overcome

It's been years, at least 70, since rain.
Maybe we imagined it 

How long will the heart hold 
tight, in its hope chambers, a vision of 
life storming down?

The ancient, nearly lost, image 
that things will be better, wet.
Well, I remember it and 

I write into it, by sheer 
force of ink. Not this.
No, not this rank dry husk world

Which is a war, a battlefield 
of increasingly burnt sand and 
rock. Years of hate, angry 
fire, too like the sun itself

With rain it is the end. There 
remains nothing more to tell

I am iced glass, a fire-burnt afternoon, sweat 
edges drip puddles all around.

Electric, pounding on heads, drowning 
feet, metaphoric of youth and high, so high.

An army of pregnant clouds, dark 
with anticipation, huge with life
thunderclaps, the joy of labor

As if the ocean was lifted up and turned upside down,
the whole thing fell down, under the catfish moon.

Here's rain over field forest rock child.
She is life-blood, manna, a baby born
after believing there was nothing more

But I look up from my pen and it is not

The mind was its own creator: the rain came 
for me alone. My journey, my true beauty regardless 
of nothing under the microscope. Science be damned

The rain was vast endless infinite,
impossible in scope, but reality 
defined and then breathed out

It was unstoppable and birthed 
strange joy. My brother, my 
blood, strange joy.

Submitted: September 01, 2013

© Copyright 2020 Roscoe Lee. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



Excellent poem. I like the images

Mon, September 2nd, 2013 12:48pm


Lovely poem really liked it :) ~Chloe x

Thu, September 5th, 2013 4:24pm

Christian Taylor

Beautifully written! Loved it!

Fri, November 22nd, 2013 2:56am

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