a poem by Rani Turton, France

Walking home through the rain reminds me
Of those long past school days
The wet tie flying in the wind
The mud in those stiff academic shoes
Reflections and dreams of insurrection

Walking through the rain reminds me
Of trying to keep my wet shoes clean
First day at work rain drumming down
On my laborious earnest dampened head.

Walking through the rain in a foreign land reminds me
How often I longed for home: the slashing familiar rain
In alleys lined with laburnum: how even the cold betrayed me
The drops fell into eyes and then in rivulets
Leaked out treacherously again

Walking through the wet wet rain
Walking working wishing wondering
Waiting for a kind of fate
Waiting for kind fate
Fatally kind; rain, when you fell on parched land
Only then did my soul, apaised, try to understand.

Copyright: Rani Turton

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