I Miss the Rain

I Miss the Rain

I don’t want to burn.

I don’t want to live.

I don’t want to try.

I don’t want to give.

 

I don’t want to laugh.

I don’t want to pray.

I don’t want to love.

I don’t want to stay.

 

I miss the rain and apologize.

My soul is adrift, stillborn in lies.

I miss the rain, each drop of pain,

a cool anointing of nothing gained.

 

I don’t want to kiss,

when my heartbeat is hollow.

I don’t want to care,

when my feelings are shallow.

 

I will not be saved,

if my savior is fallow.

I will be undone,

by blood, bone and marrow.

 

I miss the rain and sweetly scent,

where dampened sorrows drop.

I miss the rain and gray lament,

in familiar storms and heaven’s stop.

 

I miss the rain,

on my thin, tin shell.

I am called everyone,

and thunder is my spell.

Johannes Fahrion