• poetic_lion 12w

    A Rain Cycle

    . I lost myself last year. I had this idea of who I was before then, I had a lifetime goal, the same one I’ve had since middle school but when I was homeless this past year, I became this negative shadow of my former self and each night I would come back to my car, lean back the chair so I could lay down, mentally drained, and daydream until I couldn’t stay awake anymore. And through all this, my mind twisted till I barely recognized myself.
    I cared more and involved myself more in negativity, whether it was my own or another’s, and I let it all spark rage behind my eyes, I let it blind me to the beauty I used to write for. It was too much to handle sometimes, I was tired, never sleepy, smiling, never happy, home, but not really.
    But once there were these roses on the front yard of a strangers home that I used to park across the street from, and whatever color they held I couldn’t describe, and I’m sure they were a beautiful radiance but they fell to the background as I watched rain drops break against the black concrete, and again on my windshield, rolling down the slanted glass, drops piecing together or pulling apart, again and again, again and again. I realized then, watching the water flow, that the beauty I once wrote for, was sending me a message. Again and again and again, saying, “choose one.”
    I watched and began to understand, I started looking deeper into the message, and as I imagined the thousands of tiny droplets forming a single drop of rain the message naturally turned into a conversation in my mind
    “We see you,” they said, “we always have, just as you have watched us. Your wonder in something like how we fall from the sky was something you could never quite explain to yourself wasn’t it?”
    “Yeah now that I think about it.” I answered. "You said you’ve been watching me as I’ve watched you?”
    “Not for the same reasons, but yes for a long time.” They said, “We saw your early morning marches to school in the fall, we fell on your shoulders and unlike others you didn’t protest, didn’t seek out shelter or rescue from our company. Surprisingly enough we grew to like you.”
    “Like me?” I asked, “I just walked.”
    “Trivial is that may seem to you, a lot of us fell on those mornings, and your reaction each time was intriguing.” They said, “At least to us. You see, when we fall to the earth, most almost all, move to stay away. They flee indoors and wait until we joined the dirt and filled the rivers.”
    “What made me so different?”
    They answered, “You, would sing.”
    Then a car drove by vibrating the ground and I was back to reality. I leaned back my seat and closed my eyes, still thinking about the rain. I watched the rain fall for as long as I can remember, since elementary school, even when they taught us about the rain cycle. I visualized these memories until I began to fall asleep.
    Once I woke up I found it. An epiphany washed over me and I felt lifted, my mind cleansed and it was as if my negative shadow had washed away and joined the ground. I watched the rain because I knew. Because I knew that something as life-giving as rain was, could fall to depths deeper than I have, and I watched because I knew, that in no time the rain would be back in the sky again. And they grew to like me because they knew themselves, that I would too.
    I cried into my hands until another car drove past me, looking out the window I saw it wasn’t raining anymore. Sunlight was breaking through the clouds and the ground was wet. And across the street, standing in the dirt of some strangers house, were the most beautiful roses I have ever seen.




    ©poetic_lion