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.