I don’t know why I get to this place
away from the joy I used to know
almost afraid to count my blessings
nearly afraid to hope
it’s been a long road
towards home
wet and muddy
close to flooding
I usually feel something different in the rain
It’s always been my soul cleanse of choice
(and my cliche poem topic, too)
I’d stop and see
what the water does for my words
how it rinses the dust in my heart
and carries away old, dead thinking
now it’s just some kind of shivering, wet gibberish
trying to build a bridge
in the gap of thoughts
as water rushes in
I wish it were profound and real
but right now, it’s just me
empty and full again
washed and cold and waiting for the sun
stuck in-between the truth I know will set me free
and wishing for anywhere, anything else
all the potential in the world wrapped up in a feeling
fickle as spring weather in Texas
then I close my eyes and I am a child
tracing raindrops with my finger as they race
down the outside of the car window
I am going fast and it doesn’t matter where
I am alive
once again finding wonder
in puddle jumping
and the sensation
of the rain on my skin
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