Raindancer

Part I:   Meter

The skies were so high so unmoving so silent and tears were denied to my crying  - so violent

that I thought I'd break. Some moments we wake
 and find our mistake in the prayers that we make. 

Strength, twisted cold steely frozen blade-feel.
Love, grasping obsessive psyche-oppressed. 

Truth is a ruler that gives with such cruel
specificity - who'll
deny playing the fool? 

Down to one knee we are forced to agree
that this is what we
said we wanted. 

Yes, this freeze had I asked - too weary to try
to embrace undefined powers that never replied

in a language I spoke. They droned and they joked
and their kindnesses broke all that had not been choked
by what wise ones call manna. But storms in savanna
still water, and can a small parched vox humana

complain about friction, sharp stops, and constriction
when still it gives diction and daring depiction

to awe-trapping song? Somehow I went wrong
and focused on strong
when my soul cried for free. 

The windskygods sealed. The storm-snapped twigs healed... 

but in time dry leaves peeled and lakebeds cracked weals. 

When it's sell all or die castes meld; clans ally;
sold virgins take morphine IVs and comply. 

I was faded and roughened, so far from tough, and
I whimpered "enough" and awaited rebuff. 

And heavens spoke silent upharsins; I
still contemplate why it seems the divine

is allowed to exceed, be too much, while we
are inadequacy
from our first borrowed breath.