Waiting on the Rain

I’ve been always waiting on the rain.
Clouds thicken
The air grows heavy
Sparking a neural response in my body.

My chest aches
And pain radiates like solar flares
In concussive ripples.
Rain is the detonator
And I await the inevitable sear.

Nobody really knows.
They think me drunk
When I stagger
Like one under a kinder influence.
They think me addled
When my conversation halts on words
Like clothes caught on briars.
They think me profane
When I damn this curse.
They think me poor
When I shrivel within what shell I’ve left.

I await the rain
Whose suffering drenches me
Like an outcast.

But I have always believed it better
To meet heartache head on
As one accustomed to pain
And equal to its misery.

Let go my hand for now.
I am going to greet the rain.