At the risk of sounding like Eddie Rabbitt, I do really love a rainy night. This is especially true when rain comes at the end of a streak of hot and humid, seemingly endless summer days in the south. I am sitting with my back door open and listening to the rain fall, smelling the freshness of cleansed air and feeling coolness against my skin. Such a welcome relief after a few days of heat. I can practically hear the ground taking gulps.

Water has rushed down around me in recent days, like torrents of emotion. This continues to be an intense time, with many friends and loved ones for whom I am holding deep emotion in the midst of life’s challenges. But, on nights like this I remember that the same water that cascades like an emotional avalanche also nourishes and cleanses. I don’t think that is an accident; there is a reason that water is essential for our life. I believe that applies to our souls, not just our bodies. Rain releases; rain replenishes.

I was thinking about rain tonight, and in my meanderings came across a poem that I hadn’t read before. I am sharing it because it resonates with my own thoughts tonight…and his imagery here draws me in:

Rain

By Kazim Ali

With thick strokes of ink the sky fills with rain.
Pretending to run for cover but secretly praying for more rain.

Over the echo of the water, I hear a voice saying my name.
No one in the city moves under the quick sightless rain.

The pages of my notebook soak, then curl. I’ve written:
“Yogis opened their mouths for hours to drink the rain.”

The sky is a bowl of dark water, rinsing your face.
The window trembles; liquid glass could shatter into rain.

I am a dark bowl, waiting to be filled.
If I open my mouth now, I could drown in the rain.

I hurry home as though someone is there waiting for me.
The night collapses into your skin. I am the rain.