An Ode to Rain

A stony lilac sky.

Others see it an omen

But there is nothing on this dry, crumbled Earth,

Nothing that rejuvenates my soul,

More than the drumming, the music, of descending water–

Water born in our oceans,

But birthed by the sky.

Water that has lived long enough to tell Mother’s story,

Yet keeps the old soul’s spirit young and alive.

The white mist moves through a forest like high tides,

And the leaves glow brighter as they drink the gift of life inward–

the beauty of a rainstorm is stealthy and subtle,

Yet rivals that of loud sunsets and rainbows.

Sometimes we need the quiet.

Sometimes we need to experience ‘solace’

Without the ‘sol’ (sun).

I need not the sun’s sharp arms to sting my skin,

But the rumbling of distant thunder

As deep as the ocean and voices of my parents

To lull me to sleep.

Rain, you are an entity so multifaceted;

You weep so softly but still wage war on the land.

I want to emulate you- I want to be so versatile

As to sleep to your hum

But also pull my flower-printed boots on my legs

and go outside- no jacket, no hat, no umbrella-

And feel you wrap your arms around me and pull me into the harmony.

People don’t realize that rain droplets are stars

That yearn to kiss the grass,

And thus charge at the ground like comets.

They don’t realize

That swimming in a flood

Is the closest thing we have to flying.

One day, they will discover your meaning.

So please, until then, don’t go away.

Come again.

I will welcome you with open arms,

And let your tears melt away my own.

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