writing – Page 11 – hudson biko

pour

it came down. to how long. we could sedate. the demons.

Photograph by Caique Silva

there are things

that you begin to wait for.

like night to sunset.

or thunder to lightning.

or leaving

from those

you want to stay.

Photograph by Thư Anh

it was 3 am.

some sampha was playing.

and

the earth was still.

and

the rain was dim.

and

every so often

there was nothing that mattered

as much

letting it fall

in the curve of the moon.

in the rush of the lights.

in the loudness of the silence.

there are nights

that carry poems.

Photograph by Tom Sodoge

there's a rush to the rain. a splatter to the softness of the fall.
– a way it feels familiar.

— Biko (@pb_hb_) August 9, 2018