The Voice Of God is Not Always The Thunder of Zeus

Standing in the breezeway

trying to avoid getting wet

as the rain hits the pavement

with playful abandon

uncaring of its inevitable destiny

of rejoining the collective.

My nocturnal struggle with anxiety

has a hold on me that predicts future victory…

until I step out into the rain.

I make a dash for the back door

but the closer I get, the harder it rains

and I slip and slide in my sandals

like a horse in stilettos

surrounded by meddlesome children.

Eventually I let go

and accept the gentle reprieve from my nightly tango with sorrow

that I can only assume has been granted by God himself.

I laugh with an abandon that I thought had been lost to me

as each drop of rain weaves its way

into the fabric of my clothes.

“Are you happy now, anxious child of mine?”

“Yes, I am.”


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