and I bolt from the house
like a bird-freed from its cage
capering through my garden.
My thoughts beg the flowers to bud
the leaves to unfurl
the world to open up
blue sky and blinding day.
In light I remember what it was to be a child
bare foot in the grass
golden patterns filtering through branches
casting bright shadows across the lawn.
In blinding hues
I am the girl I was,
the woman I wanted to be
laced into a tight sundress and sandals
with red lacquered toes
too bright to be proper,
too free to care.
With sun comes heat.
Under its pressing warmth
I grow slow and lazy
flopping from lounge to chair
porch to sitting room
pressed against my temple,
the phone or a friend
resting ever at my side.
Light makes me civil,
makes me social,
makes me the chatty companion I never am
when the rains come
and they come as surly as sun-set and death.
Rain comes on fierce wings
blown off tumultuous oceans
to fall with force from fat lazy clouds
or sting my face with fog
too heavy to maintain its ephemeral form.
With the rain comes the other self,
the turtle self;
a shell wearing, head hiding, self-cramming house dweller
too afraid to venture into the cold and clammy world beyond.
What is there to celebrate
when darkness creeps on moistened toes
to drench and smother all small joys?
I die in the rain
wilt and recede in its constant drizzle
my soul braking, shattering, glittering on the pavement
splashed across the surface
like the drops which wound me.
My soul free falls into the depths of black ridged winter
then vainly does my heart cling to artificial light
powerless to replace that blinding golden glow of summer?
The rain has taught me patience,
the value of old sunlit memories,
the necessity of an ever expansive inner world.
From long spells of impenetrable darkness
I know that no matter where I am or what I am reduced to
there is a place inside my mind
for a girl in a sundress
luminous under a full and fearless sun,
a girl who refuses to dream in monochromatic–rain dampened hues.
By EE Orme on surviving Seattle, the place where sometimes it rains longer than 9 months of the year.
2 thoughts on “What the Rain has Taught Me”
Wow that was unusual. I just wrote an really long comment but after I
clicked submit my comment didn’t show up. Grrrr…
well I’m not writing all that over again. Regardless, just wanted to say excellent blog!
Bless you, I just found your comment in my spam pit. I was wondering why no one ever responded to my work and here we have the answer. My filters all screwed up. I’m on this and will fix it shortly.
Thanks for reading and enjoying my blog.