when clouds like eyelids close
upon me, to drape too soon
the Earth with bloodless dark.
The sullen rain gives life,
although it stings like violence
cold and sharp upon your skin;
it thins the gloom for sunlight
patching through in mindful joy.
I journey onwards as it rains
upon you. Behind me, generations
stretch up from the sodden dirt
as I once did. We did not expect this
sudden grayfall cloudburst, not now—
but curse not the rain, nor yourself.
These are the ways of Earth:
you have only what has been,
and promises, undelivered.
To hope is to be laid bare
as the dirt; you know this, now
carry on with hope. Wash in rain
your body of unthroned hopes; part
with me here, amid dark clouds:
let your open eyes behold the light.
July 2019
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