It was late August,
and in the middle of a downpour,
I did something completely unexpected.
I stepped out into my backyard
not sure why,
but the sky knew more than me.
It cancelled lightning’s show,
kept thunder from talking too much.
It allowed me,
without judgment,
to close my eyes tightly
and envision the slimy, black ooze,
that enveloped both inside and out,
suffocating and strangling,
slowly rinsing away.
The weather seemed to understand,
that in a moment of desperation,
I tried to wash away the grief
that comes with heartbreak,
to be free of such burdens.
While my journey was far from over,
for the first time since May,
the pain felt less severe.
The rain was a medicine,
even if only temporary.
The torrential downpour,
aware of how alone I was,
acknowledged me in its own special way.
Just for that brief moment,
despite my irrationality,
it granted me respite from my usual storms.