I wore a single strand of pearls
and the sun was so hot I
could feel them burning into my flesh
but I thought it might be lovely to
be tattooed by pearls laid in patterns
in my skin.
All the buildings were white
with angles and shadows falling
and the sky was cerulean blue
and the streets were black and
shimmering and shifting.
The voices of the dead and dying
and almost living
made an endless chatter
unintelligible in their chaos
so that they could not be heard
by ears but only in the mind.
They reflected off the
buildings and broke and splintered
like prisms in the light.
I absorbed all the colors of the
broken voices until
I too was shimmering, shifting,
immobilized by the chaos and
barely able to contain it,
stuggling to shape it.
Transmutation is the key to bring the rain,
restore the river with my flesh,
body to become what the soul had been
and bring the rain.