Poem of the Week

It's very dark today; through the rain,

the mountain isn't visible. The only sound

is rain, driving life underground.

And with the rain, cold comes.

There will be no moon tonight, no stars.

The wind rose at night;

all morning it lashed against the wheat -

at noon it ended. But the storm went on,

soaking the dry fields, then flooding them -

The earth has vanished.

There's nothing to see, only the rain

gleaming against the dark windows.

This is the resting place, where nothing moves -

Now we return to what we were,

animals living in darkness

without language or vision -

Nothing proves I'm alive.

There is only the rain, the rain is endless.