Is what I’ve been waking up to.
The tap tap tapping on poorly-constructed
glass walls of empty picture-frame rooms.
the very air out of breathing,
and in and out are just motions
my heart is just beating.
Again the rain
is reality beating and fleeting
but remnant,the puddles repeating,
and weaving and leaving.
the puddles are remnants of reality’s beating.
Rain is the reason
my glass walls’ hummed cries are repeating.
The tears have been falling,
weeping is seething.
is rain repeating, repeating.
to a stop,
but my heart is still beating.
the hardest rain on the coldest day,
with or without the flimsy umbrella.
–Claytia Gonsalves, Untamed Voices Staff Writer