deepundergroundpoetry.com

Days Before the Rain

 
I've been pacing this desert for years
north and south both mirror each other,
east and west are the path of the sun
but I realised there's no sun here
just a big yellow still high up.

Between the still and me, is a dry, thick air
consuming all that feed from its wealthy pockets.
I walk past scrumples of dried paper and dust
that in some way resemble scorpions;
disposable gargoyles heedfully warning
before the wind brushes them off.

As the day wears on and I wear out
I smell and lust for the rain and the grass;
trees bearing unattainable fruits,
almost.
The smells send splinters down my tongue.

The cracked, sober dry earth
recognises me in late afternoons
and pulls me down, to my knees
as I'm washed and nourished in orange
as the still briefly becomes a sun
I'm staring, astonished and agape
at another beautiful sunset, another forced breath.

I ignore the mirage of frozen night
and its million restless signal fires.

One day I'll reach the grass and rain
because the sunsets won't be enough.
Written by MrAlptraum (Mr A)
Published | Edited 17th Jul 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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