Monsoon Season
I like gentle rain, the kind that softens
the earth, guides leaves to the ground,
gets beneath the skin, the way memories
lie just beneath the veil of surfaces
But here, in the desert, the rains are violent,
dragging trees to the ground, drenching everything
in minutes, then the skies clear, and it feels
more like an eruption than a cleansing
Monsoon rains peel back the veneer of things,
undo my illusions, wash away surfaces
until all that remains is the core, solid,
unyielding, the darkness no one wants
So here it is, all the shadows laid bare,
the sediment washed away, the body wind-whipped
and submissive, every fiber vibrating,
everything exposed I have tried to hide
And I am grateful for another good workout, as well as a new client at the gym who I think will be fun to train.
What are you grateful for?
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I am grateful for your poem. Brilliant, powerful, passionate, kind, egoless.
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