Poetry: When Rain Burns

–for Oronto Natei Douglas

By Majekodunmi Oseriemen Ebhohon

PA Oronto,
rain falls
yet why does the air burn?
Why do the drops sizzle
like oil in a pan?

Tell me, Elder,
what sky is this,
that weeps and scorches
in the same breath?

Shouldn’t the soil sing
when the clouds open?
Why then does it steam,
angry, unquenched?

Is this blessing,
or warning?
Water on our heads,
fire in our lungs.

Pa Oronto,
how long can a world
hold both flood and flame
in the same hand?

How long before our hands
burn themselves away?