I Could Write About the Rain
I could write about the rain.
I could write about wet umbrellas,
About the keys in my coat pocket,
The puddles around the bean boots on my feet.
I could write about how for the first time in a long time, I am learning to trust my muscles.
I could write how I am learning, again, to swim.
I should remember,
Life is only a summer storm.
The heat and the fire and the wind come quickly,
And if one can stand the rain –
It is cool and quiet and peace,
On the other side.
This Too Shall Pass
This week I am a hurricane, a tempest, a storm,
The winds inside and the warmth of the oceans a death spiral,
A battle nobody can win, tied to the arches of a temple, blinded and strong enough to consume.
The rains come and fall on my broken heart, and I feel the willows of my veins sway and take the thunder.
This too, shall pass.
Summer storms have come back today.
The heat mixes with the sun and the rain condenses,
Builds to a crescendo and I am almost soaked on my way to the subway.
So much is different since the last time I felt the salt and skies of June kiss my skin.
I remember the darkness of the gathering clouds is nothing to be afraid of,
That the storm never lasts and the sun will draft prisms across the air of tomorrow’s early morning.
The wolves outside my window are quiet in the sheets of water.
Today is my day to survive.
A thunderstorm has come calling tonight.
Curled in my little room, drops land on my windows,
Run rivulets on the fire escape.
I close my eyes and listen to the sound of the rain.
I cannot wait to see the rainbows in the mists of a tomorrow’s sunny morning.