Rain Dancer- by Gilly Smith

*Written April 2010

If words were rain,
I’d run outside to call them down.

Whilst dancing with heightened senses,
stamping out rhythms of anxiety.

I’d cry;

“Rain down”
“Rain down on me”
“Wash away my tears”
“My confusion”

Then I would stand in stillness,
to listen to the poetic silence.

Wishing for an exclamation from the clouds,
to announce a deluge of text and verse.

With my Palms open wide to receive the answer,
so I could bathe in glorious communication.

*

And when it was done,
and the storm inside my head had past.

I would look skywards with thanks
and drink the warmth of the sun,

In hope that I might absorb this wisdom.

That my attention would set like an iron cage,
so it could never fly away from me again.

To stand new and ordered,
in perfect clarity.

And then…………… and only then,
could I explain to you ………………….how I feel.