I awoke to the sound of soft rain
so early in the dark morning
and it warmed me
starting with my goosebumps
into my blood
and lifting my sleepy lips into a smile.
Rain!
The child me speaks to the rain
as if she is another child
playful, timid, chaotic, frivolous, hiding.
We laugh together, me and the rain,
two spirits dancing carelessly
my mouth open
drinking the sky.
I tell her to come back soon
I know she will come at her own whim.
In the same moment
I am a grown woman in the sunshine
hot, dry, crispy sunshine
wondering if rain will ever come again
if I will jump in a puddle again.
I speak to the sunshine as if it is
my own creation
I wonder if the rain might have come
if I had driven my car less
or turned off all the lights
or if I had stood boldly under the open sky
and changed the course of civilization.
The weather has no whims now
it is only heavy with failures
failures that become flames, real flames
that burn real forests and homes and lives.
The weather has no whims now
because my brain cells learned of
climate change
and my heart knows it, too,
and soon the child me will know and she
will not laugh with the rain anymore.
Steve and I ran to the cliffs of Bonny Doon Beach at sunset
I stared into the whitewash
searching for the raindrops that I felt in the morning
but could not find them
they had joined the collective raging ocean
and I knew someday my body would do the same.
Steve tapped my shoulder
and we wrapped our bodies together
unafraid to love, needing to love
at the edge of the sea
collapse of cliffs inevitable
collapse of ourselves inevitable.
We humans know, somehow and surely,
that even as we can see our own end
it is worth it to love
and so I think
even as the world seems so fucked
it is worth it to hope
to join others and fight for something better
to sing songs of light
and laugh with the rain
when she decides to come out and play.
Writing by Meredith Jacobson 