Rainstorms | Teen Ink

Rainstorms

September 14, 2009
By Anonymous

It's four am and everything is so loud it makes me wanna scream-the tic-tock of that tiny clock makes my heart knock against my ribs/the drip-drop of the water in that sink is what keeps me thinking until my mind starts sinking into a place of no return/ the hot burn like liquid fire in my veins/ it sparks my ire when it rains cuz I always wonder, are these the tears of God?/ does he cry for his children the way my mother cries at night--wipes her eyes at night for hers-- world move heaven and earth if once I said I was hurt/ my first broken heart, she wanted to put him on trial/ but while I sobbed in despair, she stroked my hair, promised me it would be alright/ and though that night is in the past I still sit up ask-ing myself what it means now to have faith in a brighter day when all I see is rainclouds overhead, over heart and soul--begging me, urging me to retreat, succumb to defeat/ once I nearly sold my soul to put an end to this stop-start-stop-start-ing, the push-pull-ing of my own personal hell--but just before the chime of the death knell I lifted my eyes to sky and from my lips fell a prayer of "Just a sign, a reason, a desire" and like nothing from air rapid fire grew, scathed me, bathed me in a new light, my heart took flight, and I realized that it doesn't rain every day, and somehow there is beauty in those rainstorms/ so I took a breath/ learned to accept that sometimes a thunderstorm is better than all sun/ and sometimes that boy isn't the one/ and sometimes you can't win, but you don't always lose/ and you can always choose your path because though the past is done and unchangeable, the present always gives room to move/ and I no longer let today affect tomorrow/ because I know joy comes after sorrow/ and though my tearstained cheeks may show that I weep, the strength to smile in the morning refute that I'm weak/ and I know that when the rain comes pelting down at my window and it assaults my ears to a deafening crescendo, God's tears are for me, but not of pain/ because the rain is not always bad, and tears are not always for the sad/ and so as I switch off my bed light and listen to the rainstorms raging in the night, my mind takes rest, finds a reprieve/ now appeased, this restless soul closes her eyes, able to breathe, knowing the sweetest peace in sleep.


Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.