Pondering, Below The Mad Rain Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The rain sinks farther in
A thwarting cascade of scurries
Waiting in the rain
With the brambly bushes flailing,
And the puddles yearning to be heard -
They are muted in the desertion
Of the arid regions
Underneath the sodden attrition.

The rain carries the torment
And the lamentation of the trees,
The solace that is far-flung
Can never be reached in this
Destruction that burns like
A crimson river of desolation -
Grace, they have been pausing grace
For a whole stretch of nothingness
And underneath the rain,
They have been tearing our souls
And exiling them in
Secret places.

Below the picturesque heavens,
I witnessed the anguish of the clouds.
The stars are scintillating still, in their absence -
Whenever the heavens pour madly
Upon the vale,

I think of all the deaths I’ve had
Death and the rain – puissant omens?
Or harsh attempts of the heavens,
Of the sinewy hands that trifle with fate
To purge us?