Reflections

I wonder if I could hold my head high

to my sorrow, as I do to the rain.

Like cool droplets of rain flicking

onto my neck, sweet memories of her

are allowed into the tender places.

Allowing the raindrops.

Allowing the memories. the sweetness.

the longing. 

We think it will be too much, so we bow our heads, feet clinking along like dominos, uniform, in pattern, routine. No thought is needed, no intention. It’s easier that way, right? The faster we can get from voluminous canopy to voluminous canopy, the least amount of rain on the (tender) inside of our neck

as possible – the better.

Rain is sensation.

Memories are sensation.

No, no, no, NO SENSATION!

Have you ever held your head high in the rain?