Poetry and Prose

Rainy Day Reflections

I’ve seen the sky burn bright,
Lighting strike
With the vivaciousness of fire
Flashes of destruction
And the voices of demons
Thundering with desire

I’ve felt rain on my fingertips
Send cold chills
From skin and in to my veins
Words frozen
On the edge of my lips,
Desperate to escape,
In vain

I’ve watched puddles form
From rain drops,
Perpetual and lasting
Even after the rain stops,
They remain a viewing for my pastime

In these puddles I see,
What seems to be
A reflection of my being
A rudimentary mentality
That this reflection is me
Dirt and debris,
Imperceptible things
Underneath the surface I see

An indiscernible image
Hidden beneath this reflecting stream
Tiny drops of water,
Like time’s causality,
Create ripples in this miniature sea
Waves distorting a glasslike structure,
This reflection
That’s supposed to be me

I’ve seen the rain fall,
Drown the earth,
And the ground give way
Through it all,
Those puddles form,
Imitating the sky’s dull gray
But mirrors they may be,
A reflection of what I see,
When the sun comes,
I know,
Those puddles are not me.

-D. A. Baker

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