People say rain is the crying of God, but I say different
I say the rain is the crying of humanity,
The emotions that are stored, but never released,
Shattering the atmosphere in the only way that people will notice.
The rain enters people’s lives and makes them listen,
Even when the emotions they hold never did.
The pounding drops on the windowsill
Splattering with such force and power:
Angry, hateful words that were swallowed
Pent up beneath the surface, until they evaporated
Turned from a human body to a barrage of sound.
We are afraid of that rain, and we run inside.
The softly falling rain,
The kind you cant notice unless you see the marks on the ground
Or you hold our your hand and wait for the slightest touch of moisture
Those are the happy tears.
The tears of the woman who sees her officer come home
And the tears of the boy who never thought
He would be important to anyone, until he was told:
“But you are everything.”
We dance in that rain, because nothing is more beautiful,
Than the lightest drops of water, caressing your skin
As you look up to the sky, or you dance,
Because we are happy.
And then there is the everyday rain.
Not a pour, not a drizzle, but a rain,
Where you pull up your hood or hide under an umbrella
We hide from those drops, because we pretend that
They do not exist.
That rain is sad, grey, mocking:
It is the lover leaving, and the one holding in the urge
To beg them to stay
It is the daughter packing her bag, and the mother pretending
That she is perfectly fine with the absence
After eighteen years of hearing her patter down the stairs everyday.
We do not want to feel that rain, because it reminds us too much of tears,
As it slides down our face, or soaks us slowly
It is everything we want to forget.