The Rain Remains the Same (Poem)

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(Photo: Eutah Mizushima)

 

 

There is cool wind and sweet smells on the air tonight


As a storm rolls in from the south


Like a gentle push, the humidity flees and the sweet fragrance that was held down


Is flung heavenward as the thunder begins to roll


The raindrops fall in earnest, and the ground sighs with pure delight


And releases tendrils of white mist like ghosts rising from the tomb


The drops are cool almost cold


On my flush skin


And memory leaps forward in my mind


and drags me back in time to remind me


Of every rainstorm I have ever heard


All at once, I am but a child, watching from my window


And then a young soldier taking shelter in a tank


Soon, a young lover listening to the patter on a breath fogged window after we were spent


And now a married man, with money in the bank


each storm reminds me of


How long the journeys been


So many roads, lines upon my face


And history behind my name


But there’s a comfort in knowing that no matter who, and what, and where I’ve been


The rain remains the same.