I pulled the black hood over my saturated form
as I saunter in the soft rain,
Small pellets of water spitting on my hand,
while the rest quench the scattered paddles decorating the asphalt.
See rain brings richness to each hue,
the grass becomes glossy reflecting the light,
the browns deepen in a way that soothes my heart,
brings a steadiness to my soul.
Even the smell of rain in itself,
The city was soaked under the beautiful street lights,
Exaggerated by the tall buildings and the feeling of love,
felt as family’s hide in their houses for shelter.
In their safe houses they all whispered in their hearts,
let the rains fall for I am safe and well in my home.
Let it come with its serenade in the roof,
And steady drumming on the window.
And as matatu’s passed by, |
I could see the people looking at other pedestrians with pride.
From their comfortable sits,
they seemed as if they own the nations.
From afar, maybe from an open window,
I could hear some sweet whisper of Dwight jazz.
I smiled to myself.
I just love music.
There times it feels as if music is teaching my mind how to flow,
how to be so peaceful.
Oh, Jazz!! The lyrics swim through my cortex like a wakeful dream,
The notes relaxing me enabling the song to call my entire being.
Reminds me of the choir,
They know how to play nice,
how to bring harmony to this post-dawn quiet. How the notes rise in dampness,
the soft breeze swelling like it’s a sweet burn by a hot potato,
And the whispers in a hall,
Like riding a bike in a trance as the wheels of the bike roll over the tarmac.
The more we sang the melodious it sounded,
filled with chants, ululations, full physical energy…
And by so the music soars through the air,
Like an eagle on an up-draft,
taking with it the very soul of the listening audience,
a breath-taking melody of orchestral exuberance.
I just sing tenor voice for nothing…
See the important thing about music is that it doesn’t save your life,
it gives you strength and willpower to save your own life.
Take it from me. Music can never be something superfluous to me,
it is medicine delivered most divinely.
And what better way to enjoy it than under the sweet flow of rain,
both are just so like a touch of heaven. A wise man once said,
Show me the rain and I will show you that which feels the holy grail,
for, without the cloud given water,
it is just but only but a cup.
Never understood it…
But then yet with these very drops that come to greet the earth
with the splendor of their music
and their sensation of flow is the feeling of joy –
not the elevated and loud happiness of the rave,
but the sweet serenity of a loving purpose.
Here is Bard Mwendwa’s Poem, Dennis’s Art