RAINBOW AFTER THE FLOOD Haiku

RAINBOW AFTER THE FLOOD Haiku

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Rainbow after rain

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RAINBOW AFTER THE FLOOD

I did not ask for brightness,

yet it broke open above me,

a fierce arc flung across black weather,

colour spilling like confession,

falling in long, shining threads,

washing the night from my shoulders.

It rained in bands of fire and mercy,

each shade striking the ground with purpose,

not soft, not sweet, but certain,

as if the sky had chosen a side,

as if hope were not fragile at all,

but a blade cut clean through storm.

I stood beneath that burning curve,

drenched in a thousand living lights,

my silence louder than thunder,

my pulse keeping time with the fall,

and for a moment I believed,

that ruin could bloom into promise.

No grey survived that downpour,

no shadow dared remain untouched,

every doubt was dragged into brilliance,

every fear rinsed raw and honest,

until the air itself tasted new,

sharp as truth on the tongue.

Do you see how colour refuses surrender,

how it rises from wreckage without apology,

how it pours itself out in full defiance,

against the long bruise of the sky,

teaching the broken earth beneath it,

that light can be fierce, not gentle?

When the rain thinned into memory,

and the arc began to lift away,

I did not beg it to stay,

I had already swallowed its fire,

and somewhere inside my dark chest,

a spectrum began to rise.

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