the long search

When you have nowhere to go, go back to yourself.

The Rain







I can hear you
making small holes
in the silence
rain

If I were deaf
the pores of my skin
would open to you
and shut

And I
should know you
by the lick of you
if I were blind

the something
special smell of you
when the sun cakes
the ground

the steady
drum-roll sound
you make
when the wind drops

But if I
should not hear
smell or feel or see
you

you would still
define me
disperse me
wash over me
rain.....

Hone Tuwhare

2 comments:

namita panda 24 July 2008 at 16:51  

The rains would be happy to know these thoughts!!

Max Babi 28 July 2008 at 00:06  

A lovely poem, Syd.
Amazing coverage of senses and even extrasensory perception.
Haunting words.
Thanks for drawing my attention.

Cheerz!

Max

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