Raindrop || Meditative Poetry


By: a.m. MOON


I used to be a raindrop, word up!




you are staring out of a cloud-high

window watching a raindrop, drop

from the hazy shades of sindoor

red & tuareg indigo.

she appears as if

from nowhere — the nomad,

the shaman, the shapeshifter —

she is light, autonomous — free.


she begins her journey


until she connects

with one d r op


& then another


& then another!


B  L OP! — ha ha!

the water too heavy to gainsay

gravity, yet so joyful & carefree

to collaborate into the consciousness

of 1. this foursome, a rainy reunion,

races down the window — ha!

magic! & then, she is gone, just

like that, no longer in your view.

ahh, she lived a good life!


you think — (you think?)

your minutes

are her whole story

like an obituary.


within seconds,

she has transitioned

from this life

to the next—


like you,

the Water Spirit

is transdimensional,

e t e r n a l & free.



* * *


drop top

drought’s out



Draft from a.m. MOON’s forthcoming collection,

Avatar of Love: a Polyphonic Healing

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