The dark, brooding clouds approach.
They are running at me,
Shaking their lightening bolts,
Their black covering quivering with fury.
But I will not budge.
Everyone else is fleeing before the storm,
But I will not move for it.
For behind it,
In the distance,
I hear rain.
And sure enough the storm comes.
The thunder rumbles and the lightening flashes.
And in the brief moment of light,
One can see a lone figure,
With her face towards the heavens,
Arms wide open,
Welcoming.
And it rains.
The raindrops hit me,
Dripping down my face.
I am soaked to the skin,
But it no longer matters.
For the rain is here.
It washes away the pain,
The hurt,
The regret.
And it doesn’t discriminate.
Down it pours on every house, every street.
It will not pass over me because I am scared or am alone.
It doesn’t care if I am broken or weak.
It will pour,
And the rain will wash down on everyone and everything.
I don’t have to be anyone,
To get a little rain.
It comes down, so hard.
It washes away everything until there is nothing left.
And when the rain slowly fades away into the distance
I am left there.
I am not broken,
I am not weak,
I am not hurting.
I’m not even happy.
I’m just there;
And it’s enough.
 
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