‘The land is hungry, so are my words…
Let’s make it rain… Let’s flood the dry earth and let the ink flow again!’
Now I seek to hear the sound of the rain fall
Yes let it rumble through the clouds
Like the stomach of a child about to purge
The vegetations here attest to the growing might
The stars are gone, gone out of the human sight
But this strange wind is not ordinary, it is the rain!
And when it rain, let it flood the drought lands
Let it fill everybodies pots, drums and calabashes
Let it water every sick vegetable all over the globe
Let it feed the cattle and wildlife everywhere on Earth
Let it fall and refresh the dying world
And let some rain dampen the ground on which we walk
In the morning we shall see a new seed sprout!
The tent doors shake with the coming wind
Here comes the might of the heavy rain herself
She twist and turns, hovers and manoevres, up and down
The great emissary of this rain; the wind plays about
Let me feel the smooth airs that come with it
Let me feel the wingless surge of the breeze
Let me feel the sweet whisper and kiss of mother Nature
Let the rooftop play me a fanciful drum of many beats
As my eyes close quietly, let a heavy rain fall!
Now I make the rain fall, wait and listen to it!
In Africa and some other parts of the globe, men are known to make rain fall. It is a craft which some have used for selfish reasons or for the general good of the clan.
This is purely imagined piece.