Rain

The gray skies cracked.
The steady
drip
drip
drip
of water on the pavement threatened
to break my mind in half and
shatter every remaining thought
until nothing was left,
not even the brittle truth
I was trying to protect:
There was meaning in what I did...
or was there?

The drips grew into a trickle
and I caught myself
wondering if there was a place for me here,
if what I did mattered
or if it was just
NOISE
playing out on a literary stage.
Did the absence of positive thoughts
end all peace and sanity
in the continuous lines about
despair
pain
violation
or was there room for
hope
touching even the darkest
places I wrote about?
Doubts and insecurities
washed over me.

An endless stream of water
landed on the pavement.
Mesmerized by the force of the water
against my skin,
my mind drifted.
Could there be a future writing
poems like mine?
A past softening into gentle edges?
A present where I could breathe?
And for a moment, time stood still,
the world held its breath,
and I discovered what had been there,
lost in the rain,
all along...
Me.



NOTE: I've spent the last several days stuck in a dark place where I wondered if my poetry, my message, my calling had any place in the world. A friend talked some sense to me, and in the silence that followed, this poem was born. It is dedicated to everyone who struggles to believe in their words and in their purpose in life. May we all find the courage to keep speaking up and sharing our truths with the world.