Monday, December 5, 2011

“Winter’s Rain”


It’s raining outside.   

            That cold, winter’s rain that seeps into   
            every fiber of your body. You long to   
            stand out in the wetness and   
                        melt   
into the gutter.   
            Swirling,   
                        ebbing,   
                                    flowing   
                                                down into the sewer.   
            You carry paper boats, and leaves, and   
            tiny, jeweled pebbles with you   
                        And you’re cold,   
                        You’re numb   
You have no toes, no arms,   
                                                no soul.   
                        When you should laugh,   
you cry bitter, hot tears of—   
                                                oneness.   
You have actually melted into the     
            Universe—you’ve gone from   
Substance to Time.   
            From Time to   
                                    Space.   
You feel nothing; yet everything.   
                                                You are,   
and again,   
                                                You are not.   
And when the rain stops, what then?   
You begin to lose the numbness—   
                                                            the oneness.   
You   
            dry   
up into a brittle essence of fire. You   
                                                            burn   
                                              with the pressure of other bodies—needs.   
And—   
            you   
                        wait   
                                    for the next   
                                                winter’s rain.   



Cuopyright 1976 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

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