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Calling the Rain
I called for it,
and it came.
Yet, not when I thought it would -
when I wanted it, yearned for it,
called it simply because I missed it,
it stayed away.
But when I needed it -
when I stopped trying, did nothing,
and my mind cried out, unbeknownst to me,
when it was the deeper parts that called;
that's when the rain came.
We saw the storms long before their thunderous arrival,
watched the amassing dark, and lo, I knew.
It was there to speak to me;
and for the first time when I had the time,
I didn't listen.
I chose a game, I chose a discussion -
a worthy example of each, to be certain,
but of spurning the solacer?
Of that I am not nearly so sure.
It came, and I turned aside,
away from the rage, the relief, the rain.
Whether from within or without,
the next time I call, I worry, I wonder:
will it come?