Member-only story
PHILOSOPHY|WRITING|CREATIVE WRITING|ESSAY
When Rain Inevitably Rains On Us
Are we too afraid of death… and dying?
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
For washing me cleaner than I have been
Since I was born into this solitude.
Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
But here I pray that none whom once I loved
Is dying to-night or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain,
Either in pain or thus in sympathy
Helpless among the living and the dead,
Like a cold water among broken reeds,
Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,
Like me who have no love which this wild rain
Has not dissolved except the love of death,
If love it be towards what is perfect and
Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint.Rain by Edward Thomas
Rain, snow, earthquakes. Death is sometimes represented as an uprising of the elements. Nature’s way of imposing order. Some of us hate to think that we could die on a nice sunny day with a smile on our faces, whilst out in the countryside with our loved ones. Death is the last mile in the loneliness of the long distance runner. All those tiny, itsy-bitsy steps we take when we’re toddlers is a preparation for the marathon of life…
