The Coming Of Rain

Hearken!
It has begun, outside,
to: Rain.
Is it reborn from
the arterial rivers of my tears?

Behind the gravid fury
of the black ravenous clouds —
I see the broken chassis of my fate.

Why has the heathen graying mist
donned on the frozen sheets
of persistent funerals?

Or, are these
my unattended stale tears,
in: movable, immovable shapes!

Hearken!
It has begun, outside,
to: Rain.
Is it reborn from
the arterial rivers of my tears?

Geeta Chhabra