Submitted Date 04/25/2022

The Rain



This pelting spirit rain beats upon me

like the leaden bullets of longing

not in simple free-fall, but launched hellward

belched like silent thunder from black iron

exquisitely targeted; a cruciform crosshairs

fixed on the soul, trained on the mind


No umbrella of iron makes canopy above

I long ago beat it into strongboxed memory

my secret singularity in Munin's claws

densely packed and catalogued

the compartmented maze of mindfulness

the string of hope will lead right back home


The paindrops bring my ancient frienemy

the one we name humility in hushed acid

a burning word that sears the tongue

as it is breathed into existence as a cloud

a nimbus in reverse that sends rain up


Back to that artful artillery of regret

guided true by the exhale of pride

like fumes of lightspeed radar

my smallness is my brightest gem

my insignificance is my new wisdom

formidable I am with it on my brow







Brady S BowenI like pretty words.


Please login to post comments on this story