To Dream of Thunderclouds
I am tired of this rain
I have not seen the sun in days
I miss your heat on me
This land never thirsts
It is green and young and full of life
It never wants
It never cries out at night
With the voice of jackals
And wind breaking on rock
There are roses here in gardens
Planted in perfect squares
Each has a gardener pruning her daily
Who will tend your wildflowers now that I am gone?
Who will sing your young jackals to sleep?
Who will shine the stars upon your sand
Lighting the way for your wandering prophets?
Who will kiss your rough stones smooth?
And where will my children play,
If not by your rocky sea?
And what will my children eat,
If not your oranges that grow like weeds?
And what will my children learn,
If not that love can melt the sun itself?
And what will my children dream
If not of thunderclouds?