The sound of rain on the roof
always brings waves of emotions
and memories, some sweet, some bitter.
The ionizing effect of rain somehow
washes away depression and old despairs,
leaving energy, happiness, contentment and
the urge to bake, write, read,
beautify and organize the world.
But today I also feel a
primal sort of fear tickling at the edges
of the mind - of 'what if'
it doesn't stop raining and then if there's
a flood or destruction or something
I can't anticipate or imagine or prepare for,
then am I going to get in trouble?
Trouble with whom? And what
sort of trouble might that be?
The child in me still thinks
anything disastrous happening
is somehow my fault.
What a crazy childhood I had
being carefully indoctrinated with the
false notion that I alone am supposedly
accountable for any mistakes and problems
around me, even of others, and if I
would just be good and perfect
everything would be normal.