A Torrent of Love

A poem about rain as a comforter

Photo by Janine Robinson on Unsplash

Under the dripping watery alcove,
I step in parasol free.
Ensconced from the peering eyes
the drops welcome me.

I felt the words on my body,
Some brickbats, some bouquets.
I get soaked in inexplicable emotions,
but they mostly elicit the melancholy in me.

They slowly subsume me
into their conflation of miseries.
They grab hold of me
and I become a weeping willow tree.

Slowly there is a merge of drops on my face
some warm, some cold.
The cold ones silently whispering.
“It’s okay, we are here. Don’t you dare swallow those.”

So I empty them subconsciously
I feel light.
I shiver
but I feel warm.

©Rumi