Before I launch into the poem… It’s late at night, and I’m thinking about today’s horrific tragedy. I pray for the day when people won’t have to kill and maim others to “make a statement,” to draw attention to their cause, or whatever it is. The fact that today is also “tax day” may prove relevant, I don’t know. My prayers to all in Boston, to all who have lost someone or whose loved one is in hospital. My prayers that another entire class of people aren’t stigmatized because the perpetrator suffers from a particular mental disorder.  My prayers for the soul of our nation as we continue to install puppet figureheads and then turn around a drop bombs on them when they don’t do our bidding. As we drop drones on innocents to “get” one “bad guy.” I guess I’m just praying for our world tonight.

I wrote this poem today while Lex and I lolled in a cafe, our favorite day-off pastime – this was written hours before Boston. Hope you can enjoy it despite what’s going on. This is for Poetic Bloomings’ prompt, Rain. Peace, Amy

Half a Rainstorm is Better Than None (Bermuda, 1987)

Favorite haunt in Hamilton.
A day-off treat, strong coffee
dense shortbread, and
small talk with a friend.

Sky darkens, pavement is
wet across the way.
We emerge, fully
expecting immersion.

Yet we’re on the “sunny side of the street.”
Rain spatters cobblestones in
a literal line drawn down the lane.
A meteorological DMZ.

Island storms are that specific.
I pass my hand into the storm and
pull it out again; palm to fingers, drenched.
It dries in the sun as we ponder miracles.

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

I still remember that day. I had never seen the “edge of the storm,” nor did I know the concept existed. I’m not even sure Riley believes me! (“Whacky mom stories,” like meeting Bob Dylan and realizing he has zero charisma… or that my right ankle is thick because of an unfortunate intersection of tequila, Quaaludes, and hopscotch.)


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