|The Fall of Rain - Jason Angelone (2014)|
The first drop fell on the top of my head.
The realization hit me as the cold absorbed through my scarp, waking me up from a long nightmare. A nightmare that stayed in my head for too long, I almost got used to it ‘til the point where i thought it was a part of me. I thought that I was grey as the fog hanging on the air at the very day. Icy as the pavement. Frozen.
The second drop fell on my palm.
My fingers stop reaching for light, as if all this time they were dancing in bewilderment. In riot. In chaos. Where all the words they tried to weave came to nothing but a heap of disarray. Now they started to dance in colors again, puking what they felt from the moment they were in Nyx, how it felt to be stuck in pure black. They lilt in marigold, azure, heliotrope, magenta, coral, chartreuse, and back to jet black.
Cleaner. Wiser. Calmer.
The third drop fell on my chest.
It washed the blood away. Rinsed the wounds and invigorated the heart. it swept away the pus. I took a deep breath with lesser pain, more gratitude. I live with the pain for quite long and as it no longer hurt me too much, I felt simultaneously overwhelmed and relieved. Clear pink liquid ran through my stomach, down to my legs, and lingers on my toes. Mixture of blood and water.
The next drop fell with another drop, followed by million drops.
I lost count. They hit my arms, my face, my neck, my back. Strong scent of petrichor attacked my nostrils. The smell resuscitated memories I buried in the smallest nook of my brain. But they came once again, haunting my vision like the first time. But the smell is also a healer. I could feel the atom of my soul slowly recover. My shirt was damped and sticked to my body, showing its curves vividly. My breast. My waist. My hip. I felt naked.
I felt naked as the rain washed away my impersonation. It let me to be honest. To get rid of the disguise. To just let out. To vomit my own reality.
Sky is being so honest, isn’t it? Crying so hard, didn’t even hide a single tear.
So I feel okay to just cry, because aren’t we crying together?
Aren’t rain hide my tears, aren’t sky protect me from those who judge my bitter lament?
Raindrops and teardrops sharing the warm and the cold?
And my first drop of tears hit the ground.
I’m dancing the gloom away under the cloudburst.
I feel so honest. So true. So real.
Clean and free.
Oh, dear, how I love rain.
雨 (ame): rain in japanese.