Febrile Poem by Rani Turton

I have often walked under fevered suns.
I have seen the moon rise on febrile nights
Instants and episodes, whenever and whatever
When the now became then
Transformed by moods and emotional pain.

The rain pricked my eyelids. No, wait.
This rain is much too warm. Why does it hurt my eyes so?
Whatever it is, it is my own.
It came from the depths of my agitation
The calm that lay on the facade
Was only a dream, the real I
Lay so far, far within.

Whenever I write, whatever I write
Everything suddenly seems to be alright.


Copright: Rani Turton