Grieving the Lost

      After a Long Struggle

              

               The story of rain
               begins inside a person
               who has survived.

               We want to know
               that not having enough
               will be okay.

               The spin of a fan is summer
               sleeping, dark-green light
               from old ferns glowing.

               We want to know
               years out, our lives
               like violins or new bread.

               And now grief-rain falls
               through leaves and ruins,
               through mind this rain

               and each cell of blood, rain
               falling mind down through
               self, rain down to ground

               into ground, rain falling
               ground from light through
               light, into ground.

  

“An Indigo Scent after the Rain” by JG