It comes so unexpected, a few light drops at a time.
Steady, certain, a gentle rhythm that pings atop the roof. The softness is quick to slow me down, sink into the cadence. I open my windows to listen better, let in the scent of just-damp pavement, tap of soaking leaves, whisper of wind. For me, there is nothing better than a gray, moody day where the rain glides for hours on end.
There’s room to breathe, a pause from the frenzy and feeling of cozying up with a warm cup of coffee or tea.
It’s in these drizzled moments where I allow myself to pull out memories of dreams when I was younger, to explore what would have been if life matched up with my mind. I allow myself to remember those tender beats within my breast that begged God to let me write, let me be loved. //
The cries of my heart.
In those times, I’d bundle under a blanket and pull a notebook to my lap and close my eyes and move my mind, my heart, between worlds—reality and words, feelings, images—and weave what I could together. Poetry, my love, mingled with rain—both make my spirit come alive. And I imagined that what I wrote would rock the world in the best of ways.
Gray goes right through to my bones.
It is my strength, these strands of rain that fall to the earth, the brooding melancholy laced with unreasonable hope. I write away, bring out those dreams once more and let them take me to another place, another time, another future in which I can live both worlds—the world that is, and the world for which I long.
Continuing my attempt at the Five Minute Friday weekly writing challenge. Five minutes to write on the assigned topic. Raw and unedited. (Yikes!) This week’s topic: Rain. // symbolizes where five minutes started and/or stopped.
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