This Feeling
has been described as “Rain”.
There is a sense of accumulation
in who we are, what we move with,
breathe with,
carry …
on a Daily Basis.
Humans: what we gather
and hang onto, is not usually
the good, the clean, the nourishing.
It is more often the toxic, the negating,
the poisons.
The Un-Resolved, and Never-Removed.
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So, “The Rain”.
*
The rain does a few things.
It WASHES.
Did you ever see clean laundry,
on the line, blowing in the wind?
Did you ever smell clean laundry,
the newness, the freshness, the sunny day
captured in the dancing molecules of cotton.
This may be a simple metaphor,
but this indeed is us. We carry &
accumulate. It is seen in faces,
smelled in fabric; the toxic turning,
burning, yearning, worming
of the indigestible atoms of frustrating
Life that we’ve all bought into:
severely, deeply, irrevocably.
And then the feeling of “clean”.
Renewed. Uplifted. Purged.
“De-Fragmented”.
How often do we feel this?
And at what cost? To our wallets,
our livers, our lovers, our losers;
our Non-Renewable Resources
of Life that we spend aimlessly
on Trinkets, Tributes and Travels.
How is that “clean laundry”, after all?
Would you sleep with someone
who wore these clothes? Is it the same
bouquet as the ones you gather from
the clothesline on a sunny day?
Remember those old “Tide” commercials,
“brighter than bright, whiter than white…!”
How “white” are you, beyond your leathery
and fibrous Anglo-Saxon disposition?
RAIN ALSO NOURISHES.
Hunger.
For something more than pretty linguistics.
For something that gives more than promises.
For something that feeds as good as it reads.
For something that truly quenches the soul,
the “insides”, the depths of who we are.
The flower in the Desert.
Yes, we’ve heard this one. And it really fits.
Life is a desert. “Out There”, there is nothing
that injects sweetness into the parched and wilted
rose that laments in our deep, deep heart.
This Rose does not long for Oatmeal,
Cognac, Lipstick or Lottery Prizes.
This Rose does not wait patiently for
coffee, pizza, promotions, pornography
or any other Pastel Promises trumpeted
by late-night Talk Show Hosts.
This Rose, in its Sincerity, Humility
and Absolute Trust … waits for that
One-And-Only Nectar that will truly,
perfectly, poignantly, and joyfully
fill it’s empty Longing with the
Exact Measure Of Substance
that it was initially created for.
THAT ROSE IS THERE FOR A PURPOSE.
THAT ROSE IS YOU.
RAIN ALSO HAS A SWEET SOUND.
“Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain,
Telling me just what a fool I’ve been …”
The sound of Rain is the sound of Softness, Silence;
the Breathing of Nature, the Beating of Bird-Wings,
the Whispering of Quiet Mothers to Lonely Children.
The Seeping in of Comfort, “Home”, Kindness, Beauty –
filling the hungry and desperate pores of a vessel
whose deepest purpose is only to hold this
Precious Liquid.
What is the sound of this Liquid
Pouring
Running
Raining
Filling
Quenching.
This is the Sound of Rain.
This is the Sweetest Sound
that a Human Being can witness
in this Lifetime.