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The Rain Remains the Same (Poem)


(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.