Every time I look out the window, a curtain of rain fills my view. It turns the distant forest into a dark blur.
This is no gentle rain, however.
This rain does not gently fall to earth in delicate patterns. This rain does not caress the puddles its droplets fall into.
No. This rain is harsh, unforgiving.
This rain demands your attention, your fear. This rain pounds against rocks until there is nothing left but pebbles. This rain falls into rivers and turns them into sweeping turrets; like small slivers of a monsoon.
This rain mirrors what I feel in my heart.
The thunder echoes like a weak imitation of my screams. The lightening envelops the swirling clouds just as I wrap my arms around myself; trying desperately to keep the pieces together.
I can feel myself slipping.
I can feel the fractured pieces of my heart falling falling falling Following the pattern of the downpour outside.
My soul lets loose a battle cry; one last call to rally against the invading pain, to mend the hole left by someone no longer there.
I look outside, my panting breath fogging the glass of the window. I see this rain slamming against the earth, crushing the grass with its force. I cannot help but wonder, "is this my future?"
But what is this?
After the rain is gone, after the hurricane passes and the wind stops it's shrieking, there is growth.
Tiny flowers push through the dirt, their delicate petals dripping droplets, rejuvinated and reaching towards the brightest star. Soft, small creatures slowly emerge from their shelters, seeking the fresh water that they rely on to survive.
Looking at the sun through the dew-heavy leaves of the trees is like being dazzled by thousands of little fairies, their beauty overwhelming.
This storm seemed so devastating and final. It felt like nothing else mattered; like nothing more could come after.
But perhaps I can follow its example.
Perhaps when the tempest in my soul quiets down, I can heal. The sun will shine on me again. This storm will no longer be a mirror.
This I know.