If Rain had a mind

If Rain had a mind,
they may feel like this.
An inclination to be everywhere, unhurriedly,
and gently encourage blooms.

A kinship with Snow,
who also knows how to descend with care
and matter so much as to cover everything
with a new perspective;
then melt away and be gladly forgotten
when no longer welcome.

A friend to Wind
to honor their urgency
and also to soothe them,
for when they carry nothing in their heart,
Wind breaks boughs.
Rain squalls that are of not fury but passion
for the overwhelming wonder of it all.

Rain invites to dance barefoot with them outside
—and is often met with as much disapproval for it
as dancing barefoot outside usually does.
Or to swim with them in dark nights
when the fear of disappearing into the depths with each stroke
is lessened by the familiar tipper-tapper,
reminding you which way is up
even in the pitch black of joy.

Rain welcomes the love they witness.
Like that first kiss once under a broken umbrella,
where the taste of our mouths blended with the taste of rivulets
—a natal memory that lives beyond all reason
long after the last words are spoken.
Rain is a comfort to the brokenhearted, unjudging.
There are no mistakes so great that are unwelcomed by rain.

Rain knows the panic of sudden beauty.
Like that summer downpour that once flooded my scorched street
and caught me in helpless ecstasy in ankle-deep warmth.
Rains says:
    wait,
    listen
    to the grace beyond the despair.

Rain is persistent.
Rain is uncontained,
full of whims and contradictions.
Rain is a mirror to my mind.
And with that,
    Rain is content.

Melih Sener