Prism Cell

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Sun on the drenched rhododendron
After a blackened hour
Of rain, and see how each
Droplet’s prism cell
Is a bright, tiny breach
In a dark walled tower;

See lone multitudes of souls
Waving toward you—at you—
The signal rag of their painfully
Stripped-down message of misery
And neglect: hear a plea,
Even now, for a blazing rescue.