Thursday, April 13, 2017

The rains came

My brain was wide open for hummingbirds and strange naive arrangements
My eyes were wide open to see the dance of knives
My arms were wide open for small children and huge shaggy misfits

And the rains came. The rains came.

My dance was the dance of continents slashed into remembrance
My shout was the shout of our ancestors home from the hunt
My prayer was the prayer of the mountaintop atheist

And the rains came. The rains came.

My you was the shape of eldershadows
My you was the speed of a silvery streak one corner ahead
My you was the sound of chest-ripping hallelujahs

And the rains came. They always came.

My you was a chorus of voices thinning to one. Yours.
My tomorrow went shifting from worldsize to just your size.
My you was a dancing target, a game I could never win.

And the blessed rains came, we were a soggy mess happy and shouting


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