you move from rain to passing rain
you come onto weather
through change and coming change
you step into seasons
I tell you, for all that does not happen,
you are never the same;
sturdier in some places
callous in others
tender when you crisp and fold
as water does. rain is beating down this reed
see how there are pools on the shoulder of every other moment
these lakes brim, ebb, and echo your need to breathe
beneath the weight you carry
the ground is breaking
the earth is quaking, like this
always, looking to stand what is rooted in it
looking for things to burn.
forget the old towers
a pebble too can fell a giant
there must be wind high enough to raise this song above the mountains;
there must be waves full enough to fill the hollow which forms
the valley should the tides break
if your feet fail, there must be wings, and only such things that belong to air
to carry a doe to his beloved
to catch the flight of his longing and alight where it lodges;
and if the trees can still dance
today is as good a day as any to die live
Simon Ng’uni is a Zambian and Oliver Mtukudzi fan. He writes about the wind and the stars but mostly, he writes about the wind, and the rain which comes in that wind’s passing. He likes music with an old soul and songs that sing the silence deeply enough to teach patience, because the heart is always longing, because sometimes it catches a tune; because sometimes the heart dances and it is true. Some of Simon’s writing has appeared in WSA Africa, A Long House, Poetic Africa and 20.35 Africa.
