Showers launder grievous air
redolent with anguish of an
allergy; skin that shrieks from
angry weals breathes easy
in the soothing rain
Atoms bleached from fastness
of the atmosphere are quelled
cannot soar or fuel a fantasy
of agony to itch and swell
into nightmarish days
Although too late to salvage
fragile buoyancy or make up
time that flooded out of sinuses
begrudged in manic flow – there
is a sense of hope reviewed
If everyone is suffered thus
could conscience but be teased?
A way with dignity I wish I knew
to ease the pain that didn’t
mean I passed it on to you
© 31 January 2010, I. D. Carswell
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