Rain In The Night
I hear it raining, raining tonight
or is it the singing of water
that everything empty be filled,
effulgent, if only with tears?
High up comes the shadowy spinner
High up comes the shadowy spinner
to wind up the wandering flood,
to weave away yesterday's orphans;
I hear it raining, raining tonight.
A storm sent to midwife disaster
A storm sent to midwife disaster
turns the howl of the wind in its womb,
brings wildfire and blood to the birthing
or is it the singing of water
dropping in petticoats of ash
dropping in petticoats of ash
dappling the mirror faced border?
The lightning-struck bodies on fire
let everything empty be filled
thinking that which is broken and battered
thinking that which is broken and battered
can be smoothed into glimmering bits
shining rounded and faithfully polished,
if only by infinite tears.
~February 2013
This cascade poem was one I originally wrote for my chained-rhyme challenge last year at the Imaginary Garden. It was thrumming in my head this morning, I have no idea why, so I am re-sharing it, just to get out of a winter frame of mind.
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nice...love that last bit...that all the spots may be smoothed even if by the flow of tears...ther e is a nice evolutionary vein in this....i was watching a vid with a class this morning on how the earth was formed so that probably influences my reading...the filling of the empty as well i felt was a very strong line hedge
ReplyDeleteThat third stanza is so pivotal to the forward movement of your poem. Such an excellent juxtaposition between the natural force of rain and the human experience, the suggestion of what may be implied. Such is the art of poetry.
ReplyDeleteThis is well-built, really unusally so; I think both Brian and Kerry have caught the wonderful technical touches and how they work to create such affecting stuff, so I won't walk over the same ground, save to say how seamlessly woven together the poem is. It's very impressive stuff.
ReplyDeleteAh, our cascade poems! Maybe I should set loose my two wolves with but three eyes between them, in solidarity!
ReplyDeleteI love "that everything empty be filled"....and the "singing of water." How lovely.
ReplyDeletePerfection!
ReplyDeleteHey Joy, it took me a while to see (on the technical level) what the form was here---I kept thinking pantoum,even villanelle, tritinna whatever those things are--so I was glad to see your explanation and to parse it out--the repetition works in a wonderfully subtle way, like rain actually--one sometimes almost thinks of it as being on a loop--and the way that you repeat raining, strengthens that correspondence. There's a wonderful thing at the end of the third stanza where the water is being singed rather than being sung, which is really pretty cool--I think that's what is happening anyway, or maybe I am just making that up due to all the ash-- but it is a very interesting juxtaposition--things can certainly be smoothed by all that water, and by the fire too. K. --ps --also so super clever with the birthing and turning--the midwifery of the storm--maybe a bit of Fate there. k
ReplyDeleteCascade is one of those invented forms--it's very simple, and I like it a lot because it uses repetition so well--(I've done a bunch of them and somewhere I explain it, if you hit the 'cascade' tag) The idea of singe/sing didn't occur to me, but it does make sense with the wildfire and ash--I was trying to go for that blurring of the windsheild that dirty raindrops sometimes make--little spots of thin, running mud--and of course, the fire of those lightning struck lovers can't be subjected to real wet, quenching rain, only infinite tears. Thanks for reading, k. I always enjoy and appreciate what you have to say..
DeleteThe poem is like a cascading fall of singing water. Enchanting.
ReplyDeleteI gotta do this...
ReplyDelete"A storm sent to midwife disaster
turns the howl of the wind in its womb,
brings wildfire and blood to the birthing
or is it the singing of water"
I love the heck outta that portion, Hedge!!
Excellent poem and such a perfect image to pair...glad you brought this one out to play! :)
Thank you, Hannah! That's my favorite part, too--well, except for the end. which took some hair-pulling at the time. I will be by to visit this afternoon after we make a run to town.
DeleteI love that third stanza.....rain teared washing us smooth...Beautiful piece!
ReplyDeleteyour writing is always amazing! especially love the way you ended this!
ReplyDelete♥
Cascade, yes, that's the procession of these lines and images, like a storm after draught, with all of the implied blessing and danger kept at arm's reach so we could savor the moment. Rain may be mute of meaning but it's sweet anyway, the end result is rain-polished stone. Like a finished poem. Thanks for reposting - I missed it the first time around. Whatever was thrumming in your head when you woke must have been needed on the wires of the wind
ReplyDeleteYes, must have felt it in the whine of that highline. Rain speaks all kinds of tongues, I think, though maybe more clearly here in dustbowl land, where it is counterpoint to killing drought and also midwife to tornadic disaster.That's a nice freudian typo in 'draught,' btw--fits the piece well, I think. Thanks for reading, and for your impressions, B.
DeleteThe pain, the healing, human fragility, it is all here within the beauty of your words!
ReplyDeletethis is so graceful, and the form employed with such subtlety. i would not have guess the form (or that there was one here) if you had not told us. that's great writing, in my book.
ReplyDeleteThat middle stanza amazed this reader! Your words seamlessly weave tapestry akin to a tree of life. And then you wrap it all up in a beautiful, bright bow of a stanza, allowing me to appreciate the sea-glass effect.
ReplyDeletevery nice.
ReplyDeleteYou had me at "that everything empty be filled" — it speaks to me, touches something in me that I had forgotten.
ReplyDeleteK
A beautiful cascade of wonderful words.
ReplyDelete'effulgent' is new to me - a word I will attempt to commit to my memory banks!
Hope your New Year proves to be excellent!
Anna :o]
rain, water… damaging, cleansing. I have a love/hate relationship with it… had a leaky 2nd floor pipe that left us with a nice little bill. Yet, in the summer, here in the south, we spend 1/2 our days immersed in it - tears of happiness and sadness I cry just as easily (I'm a mom, after all) … and the last stanza is really exceptional - when I lived along Lake Michigan, I adored searching for beach glass (and of course, Petoskey stones) Lightening… scars me to death and the third stanza is quite chilling to me - the "turning in the womb" I love.
ReplyDelete