The birds don’t sing in the rain
sadness weighs in puddles
that distort light,
I exhale the fog
of inexplicable pain-
the pitter patter turns
into a relentless storm
I seek shelter -respite
from the torrents of self
the pitiless patterns of thought
the vanities and attachments
that burden me so.
I don’t see the birds
but I know they are safe
they are always unpacked
ready in an instant
to soar to freedom
from any threat
easily finding where
every need is met.
I want to perch with them
pause in safety
In their carefree whereabout
and watch the rain sweep away
these worries, this past
that bind me to a shelter
of false self, protecting me
from pain by stilling life
and containing sadness
that never evaporates.
I notice the rain subsides
and a bird hidden in the mist trills-
a child of the sky and voice of sweetness
survived the punching thunder and
storms that broke the arms of trees
outlining consciousness with light
it arose so lightly after the downpour
and sings again, promising I am here
I might find a way to trill again
and fly without a care.
Comments