Ancient Rains of Promise

Gazing out the window, I find myself wishing for the warm Sky,
yet the time for warmth seems distant and uncertain.
I pull away…
my warm hand leaves a ghost of moisture on the glass.
Without thinking, I have indulged the ambiance of a constant, dampening rain.

In my soul, I feel the insistent thrumming of an unfulfilled desire,
like the wings of a thousand birds, it beats against my heart:
the desire to be free – to dance – to be at peace.

In my spirit, there is the persistent rap –
as the chains of a slave clang against the brass restraint of the gurney –
and it wishes for the answer to an ancient promise.

Then I listen to the rain striking the glass,
admiring the beauty of the sparkling, elixir crystals.
They delay for a moment before trickling down the smooth surface,
and I weep with them, unexpectedly growing calm.

Outside linger the shadows of black and grey clouds.
They had once been my enemies,
but as the leaves blow and branches bend,
I expose myself to the elements.

Wind… rain… wet… and vulnerable.

Alone, and yet not alone, I run through the rain.
It lies thick on my hair and soaks me to the bone.
My naked feet pound into the sodden ground;
I spray pools of water with each determined hit.

I persist and conquer through rising floods, stopping when I hear a light sound,
and I realize that it came from me.
I had laughed…
The warmth of the Sky is looked forward to – a natural comfort;
yet I find myself benefitting from the anticipation of joy.