Raining By Elston Taylor

Raining

At the window,

watching desperate clinging raindrops on glass.

Hearing them collide with everything they impact

and trying not to listen.

I’m not supposed to go out in the rain.

Grey clouds block the sun with spite.

They know I love the sun.

Its light makes me happy, keeps me warm.  

Now, I’m miserable and cold

holding on to the one truth I know.

The sun loves me too.

So, I will sit in this room knowing

that soon the sun will break those clouds away

and come for me.

I’ll be safe then

and I can finally go outside.

I’m not supposed to go out in the rain

The clouds darken and the rain falls harder.

The tapping and the pattering

turns to wrapping and clattering.

The rolling of the thunder sounds like the horns of rapture,

until the clouds fracture

separated, to make way for passing lightning.

Riding roaring and crackling,

then the sudden slapping on the ground,

both Earth and Sky lament the disaster.

Weeping.

I’m not supposed to go out in the rain,

but the sun hasn’t come for days.

If I stay here one more second,

I’ll forget why I’m staying.

Like the clouds, I’m divided, but by nothing en-lightning

in this claustrophobic closet, I’m forgetting what life is.

Forgetting who I am, what decisions are mine

I want to jump out into the pool to find

the water’s just fine.

I’m not supposed to go out in the rain.

I’ve been told this myself.

The shelves are stacked with fear,

sentences in this cell

locked with ignorance, and tales,

look for truth, there’s nothing left.

I’ll escape, I’ll face the rain, it will be worth it,

I can’t hide.

I need to know, need to feel, I need to not be trapped inside.

I’ll break glass, smash the door, the distant walls are tightly squeezing.

In balancing my reality, insanity is where it’s leaning.

Feeding my demon as

she is the only one who visits,

holding an umbrella and promises of community.

Usually, I’d ignore her.

But now, I need to hear it.

Elston Taylor 

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