Blue rain

One day in Apia, I ran out of the blue rain onto the veranda of a large department store. On it, set up against an expensive display window, sat an old woman, a vendor, her hands folded in a peaceful cross. Before her lay her life: three hand woven baskets, wooden pairs of earrings, and a turtle shell ring.

I escaped her accusing poverty back into blue rain falling.

Ruperake Petaia (pictured) is the author of the two poems below and at right. He left Samoa College two years ago and is now a clerk at the Public Service Commission.