Monsoon

Dark clouds encircle
the mother earth
pouring drops with rage
one after the other
I knew about mine
but what rage did
the sky have to pour

it hit the ground hard
piercing through soil
making impressions
that lasted in sand
just for a moment or
two then cleaned by
next drop that fell

Soil became moist
just like my eyes
and its tears were
hidden from all
by rain that made
it wet muddled, where
a few drops could get lost

Ship-wreck

I don't live off the sun or
of the wind that blows
I don't live off the stars
or the moon that shines
I don't live off the coast
or on the beaches of sand
I am stranded in middle
of the ocean like the old
ship's wreck that is buried
invisible to all eyes but
to those deep fishes which
swim through my chambers
that are never seen on
the surface of the ocean
nor are touched by the
waves that lash your shores

I don't live off the floor
of the ocean that is dark
I don't live off the saline
dark water of the ocean
I don't live off the rust
that corrodes me over
I am breathing through
the tiny pores that these
rusts have made over me
through which life breathes
and lets me see the ocean
even in the dark endless
expanse where no light
has ever been seen or where
no fire has ever let, where
no love of yours ever lived.