When it starts raining and you’re in a canoe

All the sweat in the past, the tears once shed, the blood lost, those can’t do anything – maybe not even a prayer – when it starts raining and you’re in a canoe.

You can row, sweat some more; get desperate, cry some more; maul your callused hands, bleed some more; but it still won’t help you, when it starts raining and you’re in a canoe.

Your knees raw from all the prayin’, don’t get rid of no forsakin’, they won’t even help your stance when rowing seems like a salvation. But they shall prepare your mind and spirit, for when it starts pouring and you’re in a canoe.

The skies are dark and the clouds are gray. All this disarray after this rain, do you see it? Do you feel it? I do. The loneliness, the isolation, the inner fray; circumstance has got me in its hands. The canoe is now half filled, the water is cold and gives me chills, desperation grabs your shoulders and tries to bring you down; embracement of death it tries to instill. There is no turning back, no way of fighting this storm. The irrelevant wish to stay put is put aside as the canoe becomes one with the lake, escaping your feet, departing without saying goodbye. Did you see this coming, when it started raining and you were in a canoe?

Try to think of something different and abandon the stinging feeling of the cold, brush away the paralyzing feeling of the ominous pain, baleful rain. I’m shaking. This epiphany waltzes in right before my eyes, presidential stance, and stabs me in the heart, sticks and turns the double-edged sword in a rotating motion. Akin to Kipling’s Boots – yet minute in comparison – I’ve marched a couple weeks in hell, the raindrops hammering my eardrums like boots on the ground, the maddening sound of the battles waged inside me echoing at each stroke as I swim. No one can predict such a scenario, even when it starts raining and they’re in a canoe.

Stroke after stroke after stroke, blood and sweat and tears and pain, wail as you swim, for life gives no one a break, nor it lets you grasp and keep no flowers, especially not when it rains and you’re in a canoe.

  • RMS