Emma McKervey lives in Holywood, Co. Down, and, after careers in music, community arts, and teaching, has returned to her first love of poetry. She has been published in Gold Dust and The Incubator as well as a range of other journals and anthologies.
Questioning the rain
By Emma McKervey
Its how’s, and wherefores; and its relentless willingness to embrace,
discard and pour; its sound the rinsing hiss and condensed crackle-like-tinfoil as it strikes
impediments on its journey. It’s imperative and entitlement is consuming and it spreads as a membrane on the soil, street, tiles and raised umbrellas, binding each to the other in huddled defence.
It is endless, and pauses between showers merely just that; a pause between drips and droplets, merely a lengthier passage of time before the space is filled once more with the dispersal of water, the previous drop is followed once again by another, a viscous reclamation and control
regardless if the earth is cracked and resistant or damply, spongily seeping; imbibed, imbued impregnated and sodden, the velocity and circumference of each point of falling water dictates its own weeping mesh to bind the sky to the world.