Rain Memories

Photo by Ron Lach on Pexels.com

Ironically

I don’t remember rain

All throughout my childhood years

The first drop

The first torrential storm

The element that might have given me solace

In such turbulent cesspools of emotion

Not a trace.

However

The first memory that does occur

Peeking up through layers of dutiful barrier

Is that night I cared for him

The soon to be dead man

In a garage

Soothing, comforting

Evanescent beast

Drip dropping

Water flowing, framing

This glowing palace.

Next

Comes the one

My frail hand

I’ve frozen it, bony, in time

Against window

It is waiting in cold fall

Drip dropping

Outside this glowing psychiatric facility

Cold silence and desperation

Between me and her

Waiting

Drip dropping

Hoping

I’m sick enough.

Muninn the Memory

Delivers another

Of harried, frustrated

Obsessive sweaty efforts

Running through collegial redwoods

Drip dropping

Towering canopies

Too crazed to notice

Running from

And towards

My secret undoing.

Funny that

The next one he delivers

Drip drops

Into mind

Are sequential flashes:

Swollen cabin gulleys

Hawaiian A-frame mesh

Walls piercing winds wet chilled skin

Crashing violence on black razor edges

Tool howling.

All of soggy Portland

Is just a blur

Why?

Why is that, mystery of Memory?

Years later

Another arrives

Ironically enough

A garage

Only this time I’m the one tended

Teetering on the edge

Wooed back by wizard

Chaos on floors

Sawdust on frames

Creating.

A drizzle

Outside ye olde bohemian cart

The turkish coffee served

He sits under the umbrella

Anubis and soft glow framing

Wind whistling

Fairy lights sparkling

Drip

Drip

Dropping.

Downed power lines

Rivers wild

Refusing to stay off imaginary cement borders

Fear rising as wheels skid

Submerged

Drip

Drip

Dropping

Wipers sloshing

Blurred anxiety

Breath and prayers.

And then

They are gone

I rack my brain

The bird does not deliver much more

So I sit back in wonder

At why these ones

And only these ones

Remain

Oh liquid droplets

Condensed from atmospheric vapor

Why is it only these I remember of you

Such power and beauty

So many days of my life

Rain

Why does the bird deliver

Such sparse notes

Of our relation

Of our

.

.

Rain memories

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