Here I stand—earth beneath my feet,
sky above my head—rain pours down from the heavens,
rolls off my lashes in rivulets, puddles around my feet
I would stay here all night if I could
to be bathed in this cool rain
even as I sink gradually into the wet grass.
I have nowhere to go, no place to be—
Whether or not I even belong in this world,
a looming question, as I feel
out of place and part of no time.
So I stand here in my natural communion
waiting for the moment when I can finally hide myself
within this liquid wall of sanctuary.
Given a choice, I would be consumed by water
rather than face one more day of tears.
October 13, 2009
“Bring on the Rain” seems most appropriate . . .
More later. Peace.