I woke up to the sound of incessant dripping
from a clogged gutter outside my window
the pattering was a constant voice
a broken heartbeat from
a heart that manufactures internal tears
trying to drip out
wash away sadness
rains hadn’t stopped for days
ptat pdit ptad pdap dpit dipat ptdat tipadt
I don’t need weather to govern mood
a type of sadness
vulnerable to the cescendo
of the rain’s own metronome
carved by the hand of gray skies
each falling drop lands on a horse’s hide
cooling a toughness that bites nervously
at those same globes of circular rainwater
that rattle the awning
draining the roof’s edge
I hear each drop like a crisis
that flows blood into partial dreams
the open wound of an aborted dream
sounds that invade the ear pressed on a pillow
sounds that forget there is no mercy
from a sky that never ends
it all becomes a gift
even acid rain
or when frogs drop out of the air onto earth
like the pieces of space that fall from the sky
or when a celestial rock blockades the sun
we celebrate these strange shadows
sent from the sky to confuse dogs
and those street lined arc-lamps
that glow bright with their task
assigned by hidden people flipping computer levers
all talk about rain that doesn’t end on time
fills legends and myths and bibles
with drowned out plans
no one thought were hurting anyone
but this dripping is ending my dreams
that sleep hopes to finish during those real
and personal times I get to see what is
before the world drops the curtain to soon
I look out of the window
a cat sits on a table
an old bucket collects precious rain
water my grandmother uses to wash her hair
the soft gentle rainwater holding
the hair’s soft curls aloft
within the velvet grasp
and under the critical gaze
of what remains forever pure and beautiful
as the incessant dripping
dipt pdat dpap pitad padit pitap
lets the endless sky tell its truth
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