I used to wish a downpour could carry away in its ebb and flow, the stench of my demons.
That on its way down to kiss my skin, it could collect something akin to pixie dust.
That it could nourish and refresh me as it would saplings. Leave me sated.
That it could soak into every nook and cranny of my being…dazzling me with a clean slate.
That it could allow for new wisdom to germinate in my disillusioned and deadened mind.
But it does not. What it does give me however, is hope.
I remember times when my I felt so filthy inside and out, I couldn’t breathe.
Times when my world was sepia themed and hollow.
Then the rain came to remind me that I too could be washed clean.
That no matter how bad things were, even I could be soaked in forgiveness.
Of that, I am eternally grateful.

  • Glenn

    I’ve read this poem a couple of times over and still can’t get over its vividness