I remained awake,
And listened to,
The mesonoxian rain that fell
The rain that could be heard,
But not seen.
The rain that broke the silence,
But did not disrupt the silent.
The rain that prompt emotion and thought
Also prompt numbness and oblivion.
The rain seen as a divine sanction,
Or a presage to every mental writer.
And as the lightning
Splits the darkness,
The roar of the clouds
Awakens the noontide.
Do we apprehend that the rain,
Is it to be our salvation or our killer?
Poem by: Teegan Masterten-Smith