rain

words by kLeM 2005
all rights reserved

ineccesantly it poured -
as if insisting that old wounds be washed away.
it came hurtling down at first
then it simmered and then it came all hurtling back down again;
such vacilliations, such parallels
so uncanny, so parabolic.

the rain kept him in bed for the good part
it saved him from the hurt
the effects of an unkept tongue would have inflicted.
it was as if the heavens were weeping
at the lack of discretion
and the over-manifestation of concern.
that could have potentially cut him off for good.

relentlessly it pattered
on window panes it bounced off
quite unlike those words of yore implanted
in thy subconscious of the core.
manifolds of self and thee interwined
gripping, strangling, suffocating.
beckoned paranoia or a real sign
to move on from the stage of leadership
or to persist of elisha-esque proportions.
percolates a snub and a disregard
of blatant implicit intentions and
of unbounceable words.

the bohemian refrain resounds
with alarming alacrity.
all you need is love.
the greatest thing you'll ever learn is to love
and be loved in return.

again it pours and pours and pours
with no apparent respite in sight.
his selfish introspectivity wants out
of the promise the vestiges of love.
quantification, qualification and used
then left high and dry to pick up the pieces.
the shredded pieces of sanity.

the rain pettered off.
the cool breeze and the refreshed air
what man couldn't do
nature did by enveloping and isolating the passion
from letting vent on its objects.
there has got to be something greater.
surely there must be something more
about the burdens placed on the fragile Heart.

the drizzle persists
as if a reminder that it's holding out -
like a parent standing by to catch the child
who's learning to walk if he falls;
but will come by in a flash to catch me if i fall.

it's his life. it's my mind.
it's them and their maybe insidious club.
i can only control what i can.
but i cannot stop the rain.
the rain that simmers. the rain that pelts.
nothing quite the freshness that precipitates.

reluctantly trudging.
sneaking a look back and out of habit
forgetting not to stretch out the helping hand
but to let God pick him up
sweet child of His.

old wounds cannot be washed away.
a stark reminder of an era once past.
the wounds of life in the summer rain.