The rain falls in a sudden burst
Pounds the dirt road to a soggy pulp
A sodden heap of stones and leaves and mud
Passersby leap to nearby awnings
Pound on doors and windows of closing shops
Stumble over themselves in their rush to escape the deluge
Why do they rush?
Why do they care?
Is that they fear the rain will crush the perfectly styled hair
Ruin a newly pressed shirt
Smear the mascara or freshly applied lipstick?
Or do they fear the water itself,
The sudden, sharp strike of each individual drop?
Do they fear the awareness that the downpour brings,
The clarity of the world after a storm
That must be accepted and cannot be ignored?
Of this I’m sure,
To walk through a storm is to throw off pretenses
To remove deception and false images
To recognize the world in its raw truth
And simply to go on