Rain, I call on you
To wash away these lines upon my face.
Fall harder
Til it hurts
Whip my skin
Drown my pain
In nature's tears;
Wash away this painted mask
Awaken me with cold;
Ruin me
Melt me
Drive me to the ground;
Break me into all my parts
Til all that's left
Is seed.
From which, one day soon,
Like a nugget panned clean in the stream
I will soften, crack, and
sprout soft shoots anew.
To rain:
Is to carve the ground with grief,
then grow
a budding leaf.
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