I close my eyes and feel free of family obligation, of money as a motivator, of aggressive American individualism. When stripped of these feelings, rain reminds me of the blood on my hands. A visceral reminder of my deafening silence. My mistakes come back to envelope me in water; I dream of drowning.
Can rain rinse the sins of my community, those who buy into Fox News, the American Dream, the “super predator?” Can rain level the playing field? Can rain educate in all sense of the word, rehabilitate, intimidate the oppressor?
Rain makes even the strongest leaf buckle under its pressure. I dream of being this strong.
Rain takes the burden of dirt and leaves purity behind.