The rain drums against my window, hard, that staccato rhythm numbing in its purity, in its steady beat. It is sweet soul music in the midst of my agony, while my world falls apart. It eases slightly, each drop sliding haphazardly down towards the sill, twin to my tears that slip onto the floor from heights so high.
The rain comes down in the blink of an eye, swift and merciless like an axe, cutting me in two. I stand on the side of a busy street with no umbrella, just the brim of my Phillies cap to ward off the deluge. But it continues unabated, drenching my cap, dripping into my eyes, permeating my essence, and washing me clean.
The rain is tentative, searching me for answers that I don’t know, as it comes down one drop at a time from the dark gray sky. Ominous clouds slide in from the East and the water comes down harder, pinging like pebbles off the garbage cans at the end of the block. A crack of thunder punctuates the solitude like a slamming door, cutting me off from the world.
The rain drains into the gutter, sluicing away guilt, pain, and apathy like a sieve. It flows freely down to the river where it mixes with the rainwater from years of neglect and disappointment, coalescing into a raging flood taking out everything and everyone in its path. I watch it tumble and turn, adjusting to a new channel.
And I adjust with it as the rain falls unceasing in its journey from heaven down to earth.