To Bathe A Soul

How did we turn rain into its antithesis?

Made it gloomy, foreboding, once-upon-a-stormy-night ominous?

Rain is fresh and soothing, magical. Putting 

its ardor back into the barren and sun-baked ground.


Living is a hurricane; too windy and dark not 

to be struck by dirt. 

It clings, it stains 

until we forget we are creatures of the sun and 

start to believe all we are and will ever be

is the mud that marked us, borne so bitterly.

 
Rain reminds us that we are not the past, 

not the mud, 

but that we can be, will be, 

clean again. Stained is not broken. 

Spent is a malicious lie. 

The rain says, "You are whole."