Rain and Other Affairs of the Heart

Monsoon
June
Rain
Coats
Rain
Boots
Roof
Gutters
Drop
By single
Drop
Gush
Splash
Onto a pool
Of earth
Stones
And mud
Ripples
Surround
That
Pin drop
Concentric
Rounds
Bringing
Me back to
11 years past
When rain was
Not rain at all
What was it?
I forget.
Oh yes there it is--
A deep dull ache
Tearing at my gut
Rain back then
Was, oh you know
one nonchalant,
mere
Bleeding of
My too brash
Brazen, hubristic
heart.
Why don't you
Just stop?
I said to this
Wretched organ
As in stop beating
So the pain would
Be no more?
But it was deaf
And stubborn
hard-headed
And so on it
Went beating
60 per minute
Sometimes less
Sometimes I willed
it to be less
But still it fought
And the rain just
Poured
Down-poured
Torrential
Washing away all
20 pounds
Of flesh
Why couldn't it
Wash away my
Heart instead?
That place
That was what
The poets were
Raving about
That edge of insanity
And rationality
That deep, dark place
Of weeping and
Rejoicing
That converging
Point of yes or no
The act of giving
All you are
And taking what is
Rightfully yours
Yes, that place...
Where rain fell
and seeped into
every miniscule
crack of your
soul
And what's that sound?
Soft echoes of
"Whatever happened to
Amelia Earheart?..."
A soundtrack of a movie
once before
but nevertheless drowned
by my own sorrow
and desperation
and uncomprehending
unrelenting rain
that just wouldn't stop
falling
like my own damned heart
that just wouldn't stop
beating.
And now
the rain has stopped
and the silver screen
flash back has ceased
At least momentarily
What's left is
the wind
damp,
cool,
quiescent,
soothes
The ripples
on the puddle
stills
The roof
gutters
empty
The skies clear
I press my palm
on my chest
And it says
crisp and unmistakable,
"Yes, I am still here."


Photo Credit: Google Images http://www.flickr.com/photos/rberdar/4280150848/

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