Color’s coming back again. 
No more desert sand,
Back to green.

The sky can’t withhold the rain for too long.

Everyday we reach,
as high as we can
to that sun.
Hoping for a drop of water,
Even when hope is dry.

We know what the clouds are,
We don’t know when they will.

The aches of endless rambling
lost in a coma
coming to a close.
If the water falls from these eyes,
Why won’t it rain?

I see you up there.
I don’t know what you’re thinking.

The heat grows,
I awake to the damp reminder
That color is coming back again.
The washrag mouthed prayers for rain
Seemingly gain no traction.
A wash of hope in irony. 

Anyday now, 
Any damn day.

You learn really quick
Of the trick.
Distract the dry yearning.
Do. Act. Go.
Salted sting, nature’s spit to the face. 

I’m tired of waiting.
I’ll never wait again.

The burden of wait,
Adding to the weight,
Only serves to suffocate.
The mind: reframe.
Self-loathe: refrain.

This is a process. 
Everything takes time.

You must reach to the sun.
Be ready for the rain.
When all hope is lost.
We must have faith. 

A drought is never a drought
for too long
to those who thirst.