the rain falls with a confidence
into a vacuum
into a place,
unbidden
taps at the windows
demanding it be heard
relentless
resolute
resourceful
until it finds the crack in the pane
and trickles into the open wound
suggesting discoloration
by carrying with it
the sediment of the ugly past.
the roll of air and
electricity
contends with the downpour.
it says,
“there is more than this!
we will smother this cousin of confusion
and tear away its façade
and pretense of truth.”
charges are barred from
entering.
fear is too prevalent.
but the wind…
but the wind
soothes her way to gain entrance.
she strokes the neck,
rubs the ear,
blows across the surface of the skin,
saying,
“gentleness.
quiet.
peace.”
wet cannot combat soft.
the poise of the rain is swallowed
and transposed to allow
for trust.
something that is new,
unheard of,
and difficult.
the initial chill of the breath’s approach
its tenderness unfamiliar
the ground as yet untread
or tread before with hellish results.
the courage to open a door,
the admittance of rejuvenation
and honesty,
the chance for something
heretofore unrecognized
the rain learns to relax
it no longer pounds at the
eyes to the outside.
instead of polluting,
it makes clean.
it gallantly reforms itself,
no longer wishing
to spare a life by taking it.
courage…
yes, that is what it takes.
she is beckoned,
not by free will,
but by the weather
and its sudden change.
there is no sybillic
meteorologist to give
a 75% chance of direction
or a 30% chance of success.
rather,
the elements
wrestle,
create and destroy,
exposing nakedness and
expecting us to not do what is expected,
what will help us survive.
no.
it expects that
we do
what is beautiful.
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