The Redemption

I hate squelchy shoes,
the soggy socks wrinkle your toes
and the puddles that turn you shoes grey
resulting in the slippery glide of your feet,
trying to get a grip.

I love the smell of rain,
I don't care what it's called.
I love it.
The crisp freshness of the air
fills your nostrils as the wind blows
calling and announcing the arrival
of the shower.

I hated the sorrow poured from the clouds.
I hated how they looked upon us,
and we had to bear their tears,
laced with pity.
The shame that thudded against us,
soaked through the cotton threads
and slipped across our skin.
Drenching our hair
and drowning our souls.
While we seek the freedom and fail,
we walk.
Droplets become drips
which become streaks
and after,
you can't tell the raindrops apart.

If you look out a window,
on a rainy day,
you can see how they fall.
Long needles that shoot straight down,
or blurs that dance with greyish white waves
among the torrents
as wind blows through.


But today.
Today the rain caresses,
washes away the animosity.
The winds pick up my soul
and peg them onto the curve of my shoulders,
and leave my legs free to dance.
The water,
forming puddles that I do not care to avoid,
making my shoes squelchy and grey.
The post-shower drizzle drips down
and slips off my hair, face and body.
Washing away the hate rubbed into my skin.
So I can finally see the light.