I crack open the window and it hits me-
Like a hurricane, like a sledgehammer-
Forgotten memories? Or lost dreams?
It does not matter.
The scent of wet earth, of dry rain
It haunts me! Brings back ghosts of
what could have been what might have been what can’t be what ohhhhhh

The rain does not hear me, it washes over she
who dares to defy, who dares to cry-
“Why Lord why?”
Why do I live in this brave new world
Of ashen dust and of shards of glass?

The patterns of projected paintings,
Illuminated by wrath and anger but shifted by the pittering-pattering persistent pouring of rain
covers the wall
And my years of tears blend with
Renewing spring rain
Salting the earth
And making this petrichor a different scent.

Sighing, I seal the windows
Renewed? No, recharged
To continue the fight
For what is right-for what is light!-
In this dark world of mine.


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