Monday, November 14, 2011

Rain (or: Poetic Monday)


It's raining today. Its not raining in my home but it is raining here and today I am considering the rain. I forgot my umbrella so I ran from the Student Union all the way to my dorm.

I got soaked. My boots were wet through, I had mud up to my knees, there water dripping into my eyes and I was happy.

I felt like a fool and a goddess alternately as I ran up the street through the rain. There is something about it, when home is close enough so you can be dry and warm in a matter of minutes but for the moment there is no choice but to get thoroughly wet, something magical about the rain.

The rain makes me dream. It makes me dream of dripping forests full of the rattle of small creatures, it makes me dream of cities far away where people bustle about their lives under navy blue umbrellas, it makes me dream of civilizations long gone, where the people once looked up from their fields and praised fickle gods for their blessings.

Rain washes everything clean. It stirs the earth to wakefulness in the spring and lulls it to sleep in the fall. Rain looks like tears, but tears that bring life, that heal. It is like the tears that seal the final crack in a broken heart. Tears that are a letting go.

I've heard so many different places how cliché the image of the girl crying in the rain is. “One shouldn't use it, it is just so overdone, avoid clichés like the plague (ha ha).” But there is a reason it is cliché. It is cliché because it is a clean, true image and we have known it for a long, long time. Though clichés are not good style, I find I can still appreciate their truth. While I have nothing to cry about today, it sometimes feels like, in my own selfishness, when I cry the whole world weeps with me. That I am the girl weeping in the rain.

And sometimes it makes me want to dance and life starts again.

I come from a desert state. When it rains the first time in Fall, we go out and stand in it. It is like the black sky explodes. The water fills up the red clay that was so dry it cracked making three inch deep fissures in the earth and everything that was dead turns green and comes back to life. That was how we can always tell when it's winter. It rains and the grass grows.

1 comment:

  1. Can you tell who DOESN'T have a problem describing things?

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