After The Rain
By Paz Griot
Who blessed the terrain
with flowers from the lovers’ dreams?
Who invented the kiss
from the drums to the mist?
Who sang to the wanderers
as they built their altars?
You gave me the sound,
the pulsating ground.
You built the landscape
of our mysteries.
A sip of coffee.
A sprig of the banyan tree
and the mountains speak to me
and the earth opens for me
and these broken wings
witness the dance
and take off
from the rooftop.
After the rain
the cycle recalibrates,
the sun smiles to animals,
the moon spins our dreams,
to the carvings on the altar.
How did the sky understand our vision?
How did the rain read our trepidation?
How did the spark find its completion?
Inside our eyes gazing,
somehow prevailing
over armies invading.
Mysteries
we may never unravel
as space opens
for our souls to travel.
Third world planets
whisper for us to witness,
invoking the Gods
we saw in our secrets.
I’ll take the hand
that reaches out
from the stars
as cities merge
and angels swallow
the scars.
Our fantasies wired
by the river’s choir.
And if you show me
how to read the music
I know the rhythm
will carry us
through the rain,
open a portal
to unknown terrain.
Unchartered altars
call us to wander
through spirits who
inhabit their visions
after the rain
for us to embrace
with abandon.
*
Paz Griot is a spoken word poet, visual artist, actor, playwright, and performer originally from New York City. He now lives in Istanbul. He has written and published several poems, performed in countless plays and open mic events, written seven plays and exhibited his paintings, collages, and sculptures in six gallery shows in New York. He is currently writing his eighth play, and is launching a zen meditation group.