Rain (Hone Tuwhare)
As senses shut down in the Bardo, Tuwhare captures this exact physical dissolution. Pure World 12 physics, his poem bypasses the intellect to speak directly to the skin, the earth, and our elemental return to water.
Rain
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I can hear you
making small holes
in the silence
rain
If I were deaf
the pores of my skin
would open to you
and shut
And I
should know you
by the lick of you
if I were blind
the something
special smell of you
when the sun cakes
the ground
the steady
drum-rollsound
you make
when the wind drops
But if I
should not hear
smell or feel or see
you
you would
still define me
disperse me
wash over me
rain
