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/