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SINCE I AM HALF-BILINGUAL, I SELECTED THE TITLE OF THIS BLOG FROM A FRENCH TERM FOR MASTURBATION. WHAT YOU WILL DISCOVER HERE ARE ESSENTIALLY RANDOM ORGASMS OF THOUGHT THAT HIT ME IN MOMENTS OF INSPIRATION. YES, SOMETIMES IT'S A BIT MESSY, BUT IT WILL MAKE YOU FEEL SO GOOD.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Sometimes it Rains


One of my dearest friends just received life-altering news. This poem is dedicated to him.

(Note: I am anything but a good poet, so take this as a heart-felt song rather than any attempt to pass myself off as truly poetic.)


Sometimes It Rains
-by Eukolos

It rained tonight.

No.
It stormed.
With all the fury of nature.

Obscuring
the road in front of me,
Forcing
me to look down at my feet,
Removing
the opportunity to see what lies further on.

The ground
soaked,
slippery,
precarious to my step.
Unsteady,
Uncertain.

And as the rain falls
I am afraid I will fall.
The storm swirling around,
my balance thrown off.
And I fear
if I fall
I will not rise again.

The wind
Howling,
Agonizing,
Frightening me.

I run.
Wet.
Feeling lost.
I am lost.

Am I?
I don't know where I am
But I am compelled
by some unseen force to keep

running
running
running.

I am lost.

Or at least
I don't know where I am
Or how to get where I need to go.

I don't even know if the path continues ahead of me.
Because I can't lift my eyes up from the ground.
If I glance away for a moment I know I will lose my balance and fall
and never
be able
to get
up
again.

But what is this?

I am home.
It's still raining.
I am still wet.

But I am home.

How did I get here?
How did I make it when I never was able
even for a moment
to look up from my feet?

Oh,
I remember.

My friend.

You have been here this whole time.
I was so focused on my storm that I didn't notice you at first.

But you were there
helping me keep my balance
when the winds threatened to throw me to the ground.

You were there
helping me stay on the path
when I did not have the ability even to believe the path was still there.

You were there
helping me find my way home
when these changes in my life nearly overwhelmed me.

You were there.
Directing my steps.
Holding me up.
Infusing hope.
Giving me your strength
When mine was gone.

Yes, in life,
Sometimes it rains.

But there is hope.
For a friend is there
To guide me
Home.

5 comments:

Erin said...

I am sorry to hear about your friend. The poem is beautiful.

Anonymous said...

Your words, Mike, are not only stunningly beautiful, but also densely rich with a sense of comfort, peace, and unconditional friendship that I think we all search for in our lives for one reason or another. You have struck a universal chord that resonates deep within the aching, fist-clenched cavity of my recent struggle.

For many years, I've always though the act of creation is what most defines our humanity, and you have proven with your gifted talents what an amazingly beautiful voice you have. Your poem is this kiss that makes everything better, and I thank you for that and hold so much love for you.

The thing is, it's not the life-altering things that define our lives or make our personal experiences significant but rather it's the life-impacting individuals like yourself that validate our existence no matter how ugly this world may seem.

For me, I'm fortunate to look past these superficial horrors and choose to focus on the gorgeous beauty around me, especially including you, Mike.

Anonymous said...

What comes after the rain? Rainbow...

Anonymous said...

oh My God..
that is ever so sweet!!!!!!

Anonymous said...

I wish your friend many blessings. Our wishes are for you both.
Hugs, Kenny