Washing in the Rain

author's note:

Some may ask: does this the poem describe an actual event?

Metaphorically, yes.


WASHING IN THE RAIN

I knelt down in an empty field
I raised my arms to the storm

and begged
the god of lightning
to blast me open--

so desperate
to break my stubborn bars
I'd risk total destruction.

But once again that god
refused to respond
and once again I realized:

you don't tell the gods
what to do--
they tell you.

And so, once again
I laid myself down
in defeat and wept
and let

the blank rain soak
into my blood
into my bones--

cleansed, I was
though in the mud:

I love
to rediscover
that cold blue naked purity

until
my shivering
goes from mild to violent--

the body's way of saying
be sensible now--go inside

and so I did
and so I sit
working on this poem--
working to open:

obeying the orders
of the god of myself--
though I'm so annoyed
to hear, once again:

be patient.  Go slow.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook