poem: The First Rain

it has been dry for too long, this time.

   the first rain is an admonition of our sins-

not dust to dust, as we are taught,

   but dust to mud. dust to the free flowing

  covering the landscape slurry;

the runoff of mango husks and the

   imported idea of the potato chip bag.

we think, the heat was almost inescapable;

  and in the know, we realize,

      one year soon- it just may be so.

balanced, we make up our own minds,

the air turning to something like fresh days

   of our misspent youths. how many of us

  feel the first rain in our hair, and recall

the dew of camping with our first love

   before we realized our first love

had to be of the earth beneath our feet,

   supporting us in our quest

 to make sense of the stars and what they

   had to tell us about our placement?

a little here, a lot there-

 we are also taught that nature is balance-

   that we must be one with the balance,

but that too is a lie that the first rain

  washes away. without orgiastic excess

there is no passion. want less, maybe.

  but do not sit complacent, thinking

    that because the rains came before,

unbidden, that it will always be so.

sometimes, you need to go out to find the rain.

and then, be ready for the lessons

   held reverantly in the detritus- for

we only ever grew when we looked

  unabashedly in the world's greatest mirrors.

Author's Note

photo is my own.

Guatemala's dry season ends abruptly, in most of the country, soem time between March and April. It is late this year, but we appear to have finally moved into the first seasonal monsoon. The transition is not pretty- but even worse, as a climate change researcher, I realize more and more that we can no longer take the arrival of the rains for granted in this beautiful place we are destroying.

Reviews

[Horizon K.]

You know, I could probably count the numbers of days it rained here in LA this year on my two hands, maybe even on one... And those few days that it does, the world feels like it's woken up from some long long nap, or maybe, I am just dreaming some exquisite dream, as the sky falls... So I Get this! What waiting for such a rarity feels like, and it's finally arriving... And the thought that we humans have contributed to this and so many more injuries to our world. Yet dollars and developed dreams still, to so many, mean so much more...

...sometimes, you need to go out to find the rain.
and then, be ready for the lessons...

My dear friend, I am so glad to see a posting from you, I've missed your incredible voice.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks, Horizon. It will always be more than the rain, won't it? It is the nourishing of probabilities, the renewal after fatigue, the cleansing of the sickness. All of which are things a global society really needs to consider at the heart of things.

[Tree]

I am thinking just how precious rain is, and that only in prolonged dry seasons do we understand the depth of it. The other thing I was thinking is, how mesmerizing, the rain can be. How so many people are drawn outside when it rains, and that its cleansing properties not only pertain to the material world around us –––– but inside of us, too. –– Spiritually. You can't be composed of 70% water and Not feel some profound connection to it, but it does at times seem as if some groups of people out there have lost or have ignored, that connection. Declared War against it.

[Marie Anzalone]

Indeed, Diego, we decalre war on our own sould when we do, too. I see that So Cal is starting an extraordinarily intense fire season. We just came through one. My best friend goes out there with a crew of 5-10 guys, no gear, no respirators, no water... to put out the fires that threaten their homes. The rains were a month late this year, temps about 10 degrees higher than normal. Every day without rain makes a difference. We are fortunate to be in the cordillera... where we actually expect rainfall to increase (chose here for that reason, also like I chose to make upstate NY my home in the US when I am there). Water is the limiting factor of our own salvation. No, I will never take rain for granted, even as I watch us shift from drought into devastating flooding in the span of 7 days. Half our city was underwate rthis past week... from a single thunderstorm. At least it put the fires out, right?

[h d e rushin]

My mother use to tell me that Black folk, at least those in Quitman, Georgia, use to pray for rain
much like the Creek indians who settled in lower Georgia, upper Florida would do, but never
told me whether those prayers ever were productive. The planet is getting too damn extreme. No rain
in California or Kansas. Too much moisture around the Great Lakes. Tornado's in the panhandle.
We can no longer take the arrival of any "normal" weather pattern for granted wherever we are
on this planet. I'm just thankful that you are here reminding us of it. I will one day visit Guatemala..
and find you.

dana

[Marie Anzalone]

I hope you do come find me, my friend. I promise you will never forget the journey... rain or no. read moreI hope you do come find me, my friend. I promise you will never forget the journey... rain or no.

and you are very very correct.. there is no normal any more. we are past the age of normal. into what we scientists call "new normal" in an attempt to call it something at all.

[Sourav]

Very interesting lines and very well described. Very gripping... awesome.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, Sorov, for your reading and comments. I am glad you enjoyed this piece.

[Anand Sehgal]

the first rain is an admonition of our sins-


not dust to dust, as we are taught,

but dust to mud. dust to the free flowing

covering the landscape slurry;

the runoff of mango husks and the

imported idea of the potato chip bag.

lovely form and lovely theme. I liked it a lot.
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[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, Anand, for your comments. Wishing you a great day!

[Anand Sehgal]

I wish the same to you too :)

[LJW]

Your work is consistently excellent. Every time I read one of your poems, I am transported to a place where time hasn't quite caught up yet, and wouldn't want it to. Indigenous people, nature, and holding on. Holding on to a mindset that is clearly gone the way of the dinosaur.

Rain can cleanse, replenish. Too much lays waste to conquered ground.

Just beautiful, important writing.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks, LJW. I wnder if things do not sometimes come back aorund, full cycle? Leading economists are in agreement that we need new paradigms for valuing our relation to the earth beneath our feet- one that goes beyond resource extraction and exploitation values. In my own work, we try to bridge that gap, between value and cost in dollars. How much of a cost can you place on the rains that sustain an entire country's economy and population? We shoudl be paying very close attention, indeed.

[W.k.kortas]

Water/river is the great literary metaphor, and you've added another layer (and a welcome one, at that) to it. As befitting a piece that rests on that metaphor, it addresses large, universal issues--but it does so with a certain intimacy, a relationship to and with individuals. It's that ability to make that connection between the one and the archetypal that separates the really excellent work from the run-of-the-mill stuff. This clearly falls in the first category.

[Marie Anzalone]

You know, kortas, I always think that anyone can generalize and moralize, but a real writer wuld strive to tell the story through the eyes of a perosn living it... lead the reader to his/ her own conclusions instead of spoon-feedign them how to think. Which is why I so love your own writing. Yes, there is much going on here, and yes, I tried to bring it home. To the actual description of what was going on around me, what I observed, what I thought. I greatly appreciate you seeing that.