'Think It Rains' by Wole Soyinka

I think it rains

That tongues may loosen from the parch

Uncleave roof-tops of

the mouth, hang

Heavy with knowledge

I saw it raise

The sudden cloud, from ashes.

Settling

They joined in a ring of

grey; within,

The circling spirit.

O it must rain

These closures on the mind, blinding us

In strange despairs, teaching

Purity of sadness.

And how it beats

Skeined transperencies on wings

Of our desires, searing dark longings

In cruel baptisms.

Rain-reeds, practised in

The grace of yielding, yet unbending

From afar, this, your conjugation with my earth

Bares crounching rocks.

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