Rain – A Poem

It is not the rain
That makes the sound.
It is the collision
Of water bullets beating a surface.
I will always find discomfort
In the sound of rain hitting my head,
Drumming on the walls of my skull,
Tapping on my window pane.
Water holds so much power
As if these droplets
Are actually shards of glass
Falling from the sky
That could cut me open at any moment,
As the building pressure
From water flooding my ears
(Trapping me inside myself),
Lets all my thoughts out
Suddenly
And all at once,
With excess rain
Seeping from my eyes.

But I will always find comfort
In the sound of a storm’s tears
Pattering on a tin roof.
Or the sight of droplets
Racing each other on a window
Painting pictures of twinkling lights
And tiny reflections
Just a fingertip away
Yet untouchable.
They radiate a feeling
Of warmth.
But these blankets
And the mist swirling
Off my tea
Wouldn’t feel as cozy
Had I no knowledge
Of the rains capability
To freeze me to the bone.
I feel safe
Because I can hear the shards of glass,
Sharp enough to draw blood,
Trying to attack
But with no way of reaching me
Or seeping their crystal veins
Through the crack under my window
And
From here

They look like dancers.