“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.

Copyright 1976 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

I posted this poem on my Facebook Notes, but thought I'd also include it in my blog.