Rain Stick

The bruja tilts her rain stick.
Rain drops patter one by one,
then fall and faster until
her bamboo sky world fills
with the sound of rushing water.

Sun-dried cactus thorns beat
against wooden prison walls.

Above me, heavy black clouds
release their pent-up rain

Scales fall from my eyes.
They land on the marimbas,
dry beneath the arches
where wild music sounds.

Its half-tamed rhythms,
sympathetic music
drawn by this rainstorm
unleashed by the bruja‘s dream.

(bruja: witch, witch doctor)