Clouds Of Silver Rain Poem by Frank Bana

The heavy clouds build up once more
Accumulating vast array
These clouds turn up the temperature
Building pressure hour by hour
In distant corners of the brain

They make me thirst for the kind of rain
That bursts as if shattering a dam
At first in almost hesitant flow
Then leaping with abandonment
Into a freedom void unknown

Thick limpid drops in Africa
Thudding down on a metal roof
Drowning out all sounds and sights
All music of the village life
Urgent European rain
Hammering on concrete squares
Leaving silver rivulets
To lap at seeds and tangled roots

These darkening low-hanging clouds
That tighten nerves and muscles both
Trap me in a time of drought -
Body tense, brow under sweat
The prospect of release at last
Enticing more than trails of stars

In the parched savannah plains
To catch the early drops that fall
I long to leap as high as clouds
And rush into the arms of rain -
To bathe the rain in my delight
Inviting it to fall again.

You are the clouds of silver rain,
The rain is where I love you most
And where your love washes my pain
And makes me whole, complete again.