The Beauty of Rain

1/25/22

All the clouds
she said,
all the beautiful clouds
hold so much rain inside.
she clenched her fist
and turned stone
to sand.

They like pointing
at the pretty ones
she’d say,
never-not the defects
falsely labeled mundane
fog-billows; rainy-days
she’d say,
they’ll never see it.
A tear rained down
her cheek.

Rainy days are so beautiful,
so, so beautiful
she said,
but the fog that
makes it whole
is lessened in the few
that cries the storm.

She couldn’t stop crying-
how beautiful,
I thought,
how adorable.
So honest, so truthful!

She would’ve seen her,
that sunny day
and know
the clouds with rain,
the ones people would
pay to obtain
would come crashing
down that day.

The best clouds transform
under their pressure to perform,
and wetten the skin
of those who’ve has-been.

She’d have seen. Would
she have loved this?

She’d have loved this.

Through fog thick as mankind,
stood slumbering showers,
a heaven, self-given
till the flooding overpowers,
pours through the capsule
of pain so powerful.
Handle the shame
by sharing it in the eyes
of the sky,
reflecting the beauty
we all contain, inside.

Like the tears she cried on her final night.
We spread her ash
like sand she once
held in her hand.
And over the ocean
spanned beauty
so sad. The
water wavered
in admiration,
not caring for
the leagues of
love buried
so far in the sea
but the little
sand, so sad
enough to
beckon an
ocean’s attention,
under the clouds
filling levels and
levels of pain
gathered from each
and every tear
cried in admiration
of one single
stone, clenched
in the hand of
beautiful darkness
and transparent
rain.

I will always love her, and all the pain she gave me.