As the rain tramples on the roof above me
like thousands of elephants in the jungles of Africa,
I write.
I want to write about you, 
about leaving you today,
but the rain is too loud in my mind.
I can’t think enough to give you 
a poem.
I can only listen to the rain
as I fumble with the words 
in my pen.
I can only make friends
with the draining rains beyond my walls.
Those rains will not stay for long,
but they are a comfort.
They trail each other 
down the sides of my red-brick home,
while I listen to their
mini conversations
about umbrellas and galoshes.
They do not think about things
I do;
like you.

As the rain flutters away now
through the pipes of drain
like three or four robins at summers end,
I sit and think of you.
You, smoking your pipe.
You, climbing a mountain.
You, dropping a pebble,
me.



*This poem was originally written, I believe, in 1992, as I left college to return home, leaving the man-boy I thought was the love of my life. We saw each other only once again after I wrote this poem, and the me that fantasized of fairytale endings was devastated that he was gone from my life. Yet, as I typed this poem into my blog to share with you, I felt none of the pain, sadness or loneliness that spilled onto the page when I wrote it way back then. Instead, I experienced an enormous amount of gratitude for the times when God has answered "NO" to the prayers I offered up. I felt validated in my writing. I felt blessed in my growth. And, most importantly, I recognized how my positive reaction to Jesus's hand reaching out to me has relieved me of the kind of pain, sadness, and loneliness that causes one to leave such words on paper. Because in Him, in my relationship with Him, in my confidence in Him, in my trust in Him, I am always wanted, always comforted, always united, and always loved. And that, my dear sisters and brothers, is one of the many reasons why I keep on writing - to see the growth, the change, the hope, and the Love that guides me through every single moment of this life.