Rain


I follow a form of writing called Freefall (writing without a parachute) A Canadian woman, Barbara Turner Vesselago, travels around the world facilitating the Freefall Writer’s Workshops she nurtured into being. Barbara comes to Australia each year, and I look forward to this special week spent immersed in writing, learning and listening to the stories of other participants.
 
Our small writer’s group of four grew out of one of these workshops and we have been meeting monthly for over 4 years. This month we decided to revisit part 1 of a subscription series Barbara offers after completion of the first workshop. This morning I re-read the 19 page tutorial and was drawn by one of the writing prompts Barbara offered “Talk to me like the rain, and let me listen.” The following poem flowed almost faster than my fingers could find the keys. Hope you enjoy. (The only changes I have made are correcting a few spelling mistakes, spacing the poem, and giving it a title.)
 
Rain
 
Talk to me like the rain
And let me listen
As your words drip
Into the parchedness of my being
Nourishing me with the waters
Of your caring compassion
 
Opening myself to your life giving love
I feel the moisture
Of your breath as you speak
See buds opening
Petals expanding
Honey bees bringing pollen
 
Your sparkling eyes
Dewdrops on roses at break of day
Your love glistening on the rain speckled tarmac
Of my heart
Sweeping me up
In the flood waters of your love
 
When the waters
Drag your hands from mine
I continue to be nourished
By the knowing of you
And treasure the rain
That brought us together
 
Tricia 01/02/2012
 

About triciabertram

I have written all my life. Writing helps me to make sense of a world I often don’t understand. Poetry is my supreme solace, closely followed by literature and music. When my son ended his life in 1999 I embarked on the most difficult journey of my life, my grief journey. To survive in this unknown, harsh landscape I had to write. It was for me, the only way I could even begin to move forward. Then in 2009 my darling husband died suddenly and so my journey continues. I write about other issues but because of my life experience, grief and death are continuing themes in my writing life. In our culture I believe there is a fear of death, an inability to accept the inevitability of our mortality, and this creates enormous difficulties for the bereaved and those around them. I have begun this blog in the hope I will create a small ripple in the pond of fear that is currently drowning the reality of death and grief. I will continue to skim the stones of my truth, watch them bounce, and see how many ripples I can make.

Posted on February 1, 2012, in Poems and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 8 Comments.

  1. What a lovely story Tricia and how lovely that you all still meet together each month.

    This poem falls just as the title! It seems like once you realised it had begun to rain it wouldn’t stop and the words turned from drips into torrents! It’s a beautiful poem.

    Love and hugs

    Christine

    xx

  2. A paean to the healing power of love.

  3. Beautiful poem, as always. I feel funny using the same adjectives each time, but truly, I have responded to everything you’ve written thus far with deep appreciation. There is honesty in this, and now that I know just a little bit about you, Tricia, I may inadvertently read additional sentiments between the lines, but you have such a deep wound, your poetry touches it, I’m sure. And it is lovely. I agree with Ben, healing. I’m sure the members of your writing group have been very good friends, and what a lovely way to come together and share your gifts. I look forward to each one. Debra

    • Debra I understand your thoughts about adjectives, I experience a similar feeling when thanking people for their comments. Just because something is repeated it doesn’t mean it isn’t heartfelt.

      And yes my poetry comes from my wounds, but also from the unconditional love I was lucky enough to share with my husband and son. After the death of my husband the comment that wrapped me in the blanket of that love came from my writing mentor in Canada – Barbara wrote “I loved how you were as a couple, and I love how he loved you.”

      Thanks again Debra. Tricia

  4. This is my second time through this poem, Tricia, and I like it even more as a result of my second visit. There is an openness to it that refreshes us as if we too are out in the rain talking the rain’s talk.
    When the waters
    Drag your hands from mine
    I continue to be nourished
    By the knowing of you
    And treasure the rain
    That brought us together
    This last stanza is what love poetry should really be about, the nourishing, the physical feel of hands and rain, the knowing that brought two people together. This is not the wild love of youth, but the deep love of reflection and years spent in rain, sun, and shadow. This is a great poem.

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