Rain on My Skin

Rain on my skin.
Grass remembers every fall.

A man talks loudly about money, about names.
The hill doesn't hear him.

Sun comes out anyway.
We take its warmth like we earned it.

No photo remains.
Just the feeling of being very small.
Breath held so long it became a habit.

I bought a ticket to forget and showed up early.
The sun owes us nothing and still shines.

Something in me keeps subverting the grief.
Twisting it into something I can almost hold.

A blanket shared with strangers on the grass.
I didn't expect comfort and then there it was.

Tears fall the way rain does.
Not asking permission.

Hope is the candle I've stopped doing the math on.
I notice the beauty the way I used to notice danger.
Suddenly, against my will.

Memories arrive like a scent through the bakery window.
A moment of something close to joy.
I don't fight it anymore.

The sunrise this morning was unreasonable.
I watched it anyway.