They say rain isn’t universal—
No two cultures see it quite the same.
To one, it’s grace falling from the sky
coaxing green from brown, life from stillness.
To another, it’s a restless spirit
capable of washing away as much as it gives.
And to a few, it’s a sacred veil between two worlds
where the divine meets the living.
But it sure makes poets of us
if only for a moment
inviting us to feel—something, anything.
Rain can be a revelation
drenching us or dancing with us
as it slows down the world, so we might notice.
Still, beyond metaphors and symbolism
rain is just rain—
falling because the sky can’t hold it anymore.
A Way of Looking at the Rain
Love that last line, especially!!!
How fitting that I’d read this poem at this very moment on a day when it’s expected to thunderstorm most of the day. We’re currently in the middle of a Flash Flood Watch until 0600 tomorrow morning.
Rain is captivating at best, to me nowadays. It often seems like it’s saying something, and I should listen.
Sublime writing. Thank you for this beautiful share, Khaya. 🙏🏻
Yay! the Poet is back! I love the cleansing, refreshing aspects of rain and the idea of it just letting go because it can no longer contain the blessing…