At The Sacred Pools After Thunder Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

The rain still falls,
It has a vendetta again
and comes falling against
peace till we accept our responsobility.
It sinks into the pool now unmoved.
It stamps itself into the present as real.
Till we accept the wet moment as real, we will be allowed and stand a real part of now.

Water is warm at the sacred pools after
thunder. You get goosebumps when you step
out. The rhythm of your jumps is what determines your warmth. To jump or not to
is the rule.