Once More Unto the Breach (Isaac attacks Ishmael once again)

Waiting for the
monsoon with my
excommunicated Indian friend
in this dry, arid land
where -when it takes its fancy- the river runs green
or blue, according to season
and where
people hop on bicycles
to go wandering
to go singing songs
by the campfire

...
the monsoon
has been
threatening for days now
and we sat muted,
dehydrated
severed from
our bottles of bottled water

in
a little piece of India

she points a finger
to all injustice that has been done
in the past
and accuses the world
of being silent

It thunders.

Soon we'll have the rain