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Poem

Rain
Icey teardrops
Dripping slowly down the panes
Like a bitter honey
As though my brick home is suddenly flooded with bittersweet memories

Death
The reaper
Who shines in the midnight hour like an eroding candle
Finally shared with me the news
As he took some of my suitcases with him
With no farewell
He climbed aboard his melancholy chariot
“A stage of life,” he said
And took off, kicking dust across streets
And onto my lonely home’s panes.

I lay here on the pane
Watching the tears roll down the panes
The storm is battering my home, my dam
Attempting with brute force
To invade me
To soak me wet and cold

I am not home
I am in a prison identical in appearance to my home
Locking myself within while I watch the hurricane wage its war

Suddenly
The dam erupts
The narrow streets welcome a flood of dark, obnoxious waters
My prison is taken, as though a boat
I float upon the treacherous waters

But buoyancy is temporary
I sink
The barring windows crack one by one
I grow nervous and restless

Without warning the bricks exploded
And I am embraced by warm water and soft, white foam
My eyes close
My tender cheeks are no longer dry
I am entirely drenched and encapsulated
From my lungs to the heart and soul
A hand grasps mine

Finally the sun shines
Clouds have partially blocked my view, but the sun does shine
Like gold
Beautiful gold
And the water I float softly on evaporates

I clench the hand harder
The wind wipes my tears
Nature of life, who I so despised, who so betrayed me
Now comforts me with the gifts and of mankind
To each yin a yang,
I know.
Someday when yang floods my home
I shall be strong enough to let go

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