And Then the Nostalgia Hits Me

Okay, so this afternoon I cracked open my notebooks from five years ago, when I was young, thought success was only a couple of months away, and was in my first and only year of college at BYU-I. The classes were intense, the teachers memorable, and that year proved to be more instructive on the ways of life than I could have ever imagined.

Most of the first notebook was nothing but class notes interspersed with my random thoughts, and written conversations between myself and other classmates (so we could communicate without interrupting the teacher or looking like we were texting).

And then there was this poem.

Please note that I’m note prone to poetic outbursts. As a medium I think it’s largely cliché. I don’t know why or how this poem came into being, or even what was going on when I wrote it, but it stirred up some familiar feelings.

Which is why I’m going to put it on the internet so everyone can read it and brand me a horrible poet.

So, here goes *clears throat*

I pray for rain

Not the drip drop to freshen the flowers,

but the pelting, stinging kind

that smacks against your neck and face

masking tears as the buildings, my friends and I

atone for the sins of the clouds

Do you pray for rain?

the sweet sting that feels purifying

as if a Spirit could

reach down and wipe the hurt from your eyes

and brush your cheek with warmth

Will I pray for rain?

leave my umbrella, and even a jacket?

Will you join in our waltz?

We bow, turn to our partner,

take their hand, and to the beat

of falling rain, we’ll dance ’til we are clean.

 

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