Flooding Rain

On a different day this would be a warm comfort
seeking Earl Grey and oatmeal cookie, soft blanket
wrapping, fall Friday afternoon. But today, I watch as
a flooding rain pours out its heart to match my mood.
Today is another mournful autumn day in a repeating
pattern of bleak mournful days. Today I watch the
cold soaking torrents puddle atop saturated earth
unable to absorb another drop. Today, I feel as saturated
as the earth. Is numbness setting in? Has the time come
when I can’t absorb another breaking horror story?
Is there a moment when there’s no more room for the
grief for the dead? Or for the sadness and disbelief at
young men filled with hate wielding wartime weapons,
shooting down college students and congregants and
moviegoers and Oh-my-God it could not have been true, but
was, little first graders? Sweet grandchildren, learning
to read and tie tiny shoes, shot down in classrooms
decorated with ABCs and dinosaur cutouts. And still
supposedly civilized men with grandchildren of their
own argue for the guns and not the children. Please, I
don’t want to let numbness set in. Can we make the
tipping-point today? A day when the sky mourns and the
citizens rage and few seem to stomach the “guns don’t
kill…” bullshit. Or is it just another day to be spent
hiding wrapped in a blanket watching sad puddles form
on sodden earth in helpless despair, and overflowing sorrow.

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