POEM: Lingua Deos

Updated: Dec 2, 2019

by BEN RICHARDSON - March 27, 2019

Rain is the language of the gods

Every river, creek and stream flows from their inkwells

Radiant rods of lightning scribe like quills onto clammy canvases

6,500 mother tongues, yet every soul knows

Each mesmerizing droplet forms a new Rosetta Stone

Divine pitter after patter supersedes human screed

For the splatter on soft skin endows us to be freed

Among us the flawed fools take shelter at first glance

Each torrential poem urges an epic to advance

Lest the floods begin to silence our quivvered cries

Let the rain speak strong, from the gods in the skies.

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