Sometimes the rain falls slowly
And other times it has speed to it
And other times it has weight
The rain is the indication of the same thing
In different ways
It looks the same
Smells the same
But it traverses different when it falls
Like the tears coming down you face
Those tears flow differently depending on the pain.
Dashing through
The water drops
Running fast before they land
Ruthlessly upon my clothes, hair, and face
Trying to make it out alive
Without a bit of scars
Or the wounds of where it lands
Like fighting jets and bombers
These little drops are missiles in disguised
If and when they start to fall
I panic enough to almost die
Enough to know that – coverage is essential – a bunker
home – leaving is second to everything
My clothes, skin, hair does not tolerate these missiles coming from the sky.
[Ruptes, 02/2020]
