The Rain Chronicle

The Chronicle Of The Rain

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B y C linton Inene

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The Chronicle Of The Rain

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Light of beauty Strike from an angry god’ shrine Glaring the clouds alluring light over the earth Drums of uncertainty Murmurs of the morning sunshine Sounding thunder’s berating wrath Winds of calmness Breath of a goddess Twirling the earth’s tranquil gust cruel Calls forth the dawn of my rain chronicle

Like the widow of Mitchika torn by the tides of country Peering from her window to see what is left of her future I watched the puissant sun draped by darkness

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The Chronicle Of The Rain

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All for the war of one chair adorn in the blood of fellow comrades I saw the innocuous beasts of country flee their future Yes! She soared yonder, her voice, lurid and my eyes were witness People fled the streets running over tables The torpid women under the trees bunged their old wives’ fables Mothers’ beckon their bowel fruits to stay in For the day portends to be terrifying

I watched the soil spurn to drink of the rainwaters At the latter end of the day saw the waters fill the drainage in the quarters I had prayed and hoped for this day for ages In my memory archives lay forever that day’s images

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The Chronicle Of The Rain

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I was upright and conscientiously watching all the deeds unfurl My farm was neither watered nor was my river full It all seem the storm never heard my cries but hid my tears From my shuteye an insalubrious voice calls me out so dear Oh! The whirlwind has got the young trees dancing to it cruel rhythm But the strikes of her drops made the pale green tinge

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