The Blessings We Wish Away

Why is it that when people pray,
They always wish the rain away,
Alas, why should she come again another day,
When we curse at, slander and treat her this way?

These little crystal drops, born in the ocean,
Fall from the heavens, attempting to condemn the notion,
That they’re piercing shards of glass, vainly deserving remotion,
Don’t you see the way they gently settle our brewing commotion?

When I see rain, I see the memories I let it hold,
From a simpler time, when I wasn’t as old,
And had radiant eyes that glistened and glowed,
While I let those showers hug me till I was consoled.

I think of my friends; I haven’t seen them in years,
I yearn the times we spent in mirth and tears,
Coupled with the rains that watched us fight our fears,
And fell like motherly kisses on our foreheads and ears.

The rains remain constant when all life does is change,
It’s the means of our existence and asks for nothing in exchange,
Which is why I find it so exceedingly strange,
That you speak of it so full of hate and rage.

Now, when I see people pray,
I hope they aren’t wishing the rain away,
For if she listened and never came again another day,
We’d regret cursing at, slandering, and treating her this way

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