Petrichor

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
Drip.
Drop.
Drip.
Drop.

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
As
I
Fall
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.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s