Marcy

As I peer out through the window,
To watch rain falling in waves,
All I see is a cemetery,
That holds only unmarked graves,
I wonder if I’m among them,
If I even deserve anything more,
I know for certain what we found,
But alone what’s a heart for.
 
 
The storm rages outside my window,
Separated by a pane of glass,
Is the storm worse than the one within,
With the redeeming fact that it will pass,
If it weren’t for bad weather,
How would we know if it was good,
There’d be nothing to compare it to,
If we even could.
 
 
The rain holds out a repetitive sound,
Some tune that I don’t know,
It somehow seems to be alive,
Like a sea of tears that grows,
The rain seems to assault the mind,
Becoming drops of blood from the heart,
A storm that started a few years ago,
On the day we began this apart.
 
 
As I watch the rain that’s falling,
My eyes begin to close,
For five years the storms been blowing,
And inside it daily grows,
A lightning flash opens the eyes,
It mirrors past events,
A beginning that still lingers,
Though it seems our fears prevent.
 
 
I wonder if the raindrops are salty,
Like the ocean or even our tears,
Drops of hope that are raining down,
From a storm that no one hears,
Cool clean water quenches thirst,
And that water keeps us alive,
But if a heart is wounded deeply,
Is it only love that helps it survive.
 
 
Enticed by the falling raindrops,
I’m drawn to the outside,
Because the water seems to cleans the soul,
No matter how hard we try to hide,
A storm rolls in to ease the mind,
Because it’s water we all need,
And since love was planted in the heart,
The storms just water the seed.

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Barb Clarke
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