Gentle Rain

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

The gentle rain begins to fall. Raindrops and cloudy skies. The crying sky mourning the death of innocence below. I hear the gentleness of the falling rain, and I remember how it used to be, and I too begin to weep.

GENTLE RAIN

By Al Garcia

The gentle rain begins to fall.  Raindrops and cloudy skies.  The crying sky mourning the death of innocence below.  I hear the gentleness of the falling rain, and I remember how it used to be, and I too begin to weep.

Like a part of heaven falling, I feel the weight of time upon me, wet and cold and cruel.  Helpless and afraid, I shelter inside and wait.  Fearful of being touched.  Anxious about the changing and ever-growing waves of the affliction that has spread around the world.  Frightened to breath the air shared by the blowing winds.  I can see the raindrops from my window, falling, breaking and melting into pools of tears, as if to share our sorrow. 

The simple things I used to take for granted in my daily life, now gone.  Consumed by fear.  Drained of the confidence that used to be.  Rainy days and memories.  How wonderous was the time before the shadows began to darken the horizon.  How pure, safe and fragrant the rain once was.  How carefree and how innocent to walk in the rain, to run against the wind, and to feel the rush of life drench my body and my soul with reassurance and with hope.  To be a child again, when the world was separate and apart from the tiny speck I claim for my very own.

I want to walk in the gentle rain again, unafraid to feel the wind against my face, or hold a hand or embrace another soul.  I want to live again, and feel the energy and the strength of life again.  I want to reach out and touch, and feel and hear the laughter again. 

I hear the gentle rain and see the wetted fields and saturated trees, taking in each raindrop like vanquished newborn birds seeking to be fed, with their stocks and branches outstretched to catch the falling rain that sustains them, nurtures them and strengthens them.  And the rain falls, and it makes me feel alone, wishing for a rainbow to bring back hope and the renewal of life as it used to be.

Rainy days and me – a time when I used to imagine and dream.  Now a cold and gloomy day filled with tears and with memories of better days.  A time to stay inside and feel the fading yearnings of my life.  A time to appreciate the days gone by with some regret and grief. 

I am hopeful that soon the gentle rain will stop, the sun will come out, and life will go on.  But for now, the gentle rain obscures the sun and the rays of hope that once suckled the budding promises of now decaying dreams.

 


Submitted: June 06, 2021

© Copyright 2021 A.Garcia. All rights reserved.

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