Epithet: Rain Girl
Here, beneath the sky of my mind,
in the swaying hammock of my heart,
strung between tall palms of loss and love -
lies a child's form furled , asleep.
RainGirl is this little one's name,
her father called her this -
" She who was born with the rain,"
born to bring liquid life again
She who should have brought bliss
to dry and desolate plain
bleached by drought's hot kiss...
Instead, she sleeps now, folded away,
peaceful as an unborn chick -
life protected, yet space restricted
in her hard shelled hide.
Conceived through loss,
she now lives, survives,
because her brothers died.
As if they stepped aside.
Brief pure lives roughly shortened
by life's relentless tide
of comings and goings, never ceasing -
Life's, and Death's continual pacings...
Now, she-child must quietly sway...
Allow a woman to take her place -
who longs to laugh with female grace...
So sleep, curled child, beneath blue skies,
Sleep those bitter hours away...
Arise Woman! Get up, stand tall, stand strong!
The desert plain is ablaze with flowers.
Posted 28/09/2017
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