My Friend the Raindrop

There is hardly a drop of rain

that misses the earth

the one that does 

must have gotten

lost in the woods

or leveled its eyes on the horizon and 

aimed for the bright crack

closing after day

 

The drop of rain that hit me did neither

I kept it in my pocket 

and it rode with me waiting to be

delivered down

past feet and sewer drains

to brown oblivion nested sweetly

beyond my pockets bottom

 

but I would not let it

I would not let it go to its death

but instead I held it in my hand

and asked it questions

about its grandfathers and its murky past

and how many times has it passed through the 

eye of a lover

 

the rain drop quivered and said 

something that couldn't be explained

the rain drop said

Stopping the fall, makes myths into men

but falling with purpose makes men into myths.

 

I couldn't wait any longer so I 

prayed for the rain

so when the drop

was dropped

he wouldn't have the pain

of being alone

 

and when the thunder clouds broke

on a dark dawn in may

I went out from my room and 

prayed that the clouds would go away

 

In fact they did and when it got warm

the drop began to shrink and i could see it needed

something to drink to keep its form

 

I gave him a tear

that way I had an answer to my eariler question.

He quivered again and told me

something inexplicable

terror subsides never at daytide

but in the quiet of closed eyes

calm is never in silence

but in the din of welcomed things

 

I knew it was true so

I prayed once more the rain

but it hailed and I caught his brother

a hailstone the size of a pea and 

joined with he

so he didnt get any smaller

 

Somehow, he quivered in thanks and said

Sorrow rests on the banks

of a corpse that never quite walked

gratitude grows from mouth of

crows that never learned to talk

 

I never heard a sentence so strange

so I set down a page to record what he had said 

he ask silently for peace

and with great grief 

i let him roll down my palm

and out of the window

 

screaming in delight he 

soared in flight and turned to miss the earth again

 

I hope when this letter I send

I'll see my old friend

refusing the fate in the earth

hes made of tears and ice

and smacks of christ 

as he flys up to the sun again

 

I saw him die or maybe he flied

I couldn't say for sure in the storm

But i could hear a quiver of thanks

as he rolled on his flanks 

into the jolly white squall.