Some storms begin with a small drop of water falling from the sky -- a slow sparkling crystal descending from the clouds to land with a slight splattering spread on the pavement. A storm that appears gradually, misting the earth and blocking the sun with its fog.
But this storm began without shining crystals or pavement drops bleeding into one another to create a single shining slate of asphalt. This storm began in her heart.
She felt it before she heard it. A cold, hard stinging inside her chest; a sharp, tight pulsing in her brain.
It's going to rain.
Down from the sky-- barrage of hammers on the rooftop --
down from the clouds -- volley of bullets against the walls!
Out, out, out -- out into the rain.
Running...running. Bare feet against the pavement.
Running...running. Hair plastered to her cheeks.
Running...running. Clothes clinging as though naked.
Running...running. Skin screaming with the sting.
Run. Run. Run. Run. Repeating
in her mind, racing through the storm. Racing through the storm running from the rain through the rain to the rain
the rain the rain the rain
Cold, biting, stinging rain -- rain that is alive.
Cold, biting, stinging rain.
Cold. Biting. Stinging.
She can feel it. Feel. the cold. the bite. the sting.
Time -- what time? No time -- running. running. raining.
Hair streaming, hands shaking, feet bleeding, lips speaking
words she cannot hear. Stumbling, tumbling, crumbling on the porch
All she wants is rain.