This rain has proved
Heaven’s whimper
Like the tears of God
I’ve been needing
Since discovering
Hell is conviction
By virtue
Of smiling suns

And their harshest rays
We can take
During seasons
Better off thirsty
Where droughts prove long
Without begging
Such empty skies
For a flood –

Like mysteries
Missing each piece
When crying clouds
Never answer
What puzzle endures
During daylight
Obscured much less
Than we’d wish

As heavier air
Carries words
Tasked through dreams
Seeking questions
Before each thought
Loses meaning
Just drinking from wells
Going dry –

Burdened too much
Under loads
And still asking rocks
Despite knowing
That life drinks dirt
Growing desperate
Feeling parched
If inquiring stones

How water appears
Ever rare
Even though hell
Remains vacant
Unleashing its wrath
Via beauty
Expecting dawn
Shimmers bright

But anticipates
Shifting beliefs
Subverting faith
Every morning
These changes come
Bringing showers
Cascading relief
Turning grey.

I love those sounds
Puddles make
Outside my room
Gently calling
Enough so hope
Isn’t stagnant
Or comfortably warm
Seeming stale.

• J. Pigno