Writing in the Rain

Written In a rainy Sunday

It’s raining here, and the wind doesn’t want to stop knocking on my window. I love the rain, but I still can’t understand why I write every time it appears. Maybe because, if you know how to listen to the rain and the silences, they have their own words. Or maybe, because it also falls on your indecipherable thoughts, while I’m here convincing myself that, no matter how much something can tear us to shreds, or pieces in a trunk, or even like skeletons in a closet, we will never be completely destroyed. I write because there are thoughts that can’t stand the sunlight, thoughts that can’t help but come out these days because they need the rain to move the emotions of my heart.

The rain has a way of weaving itself into the fabric of my thoughts, stitching together fragments of memories and emotions that I didn’t even know were there. Each drop is a tiny messenger, carrying whispers of the past and echoes of the future. The wind, relentless in its pursuit, seems to be urging me to open the window, to let the storm inside and allow it to cleanse my soul.

As I sit here, pen in hand, I realize that the rain is not just a backdrop to my writing; it is a co-author, guiding my words and shaping my sentences. It brings with it a sense of clarity, a reminder that even in the midst of chaos, there is beauty to be found. The rain’s rhythm becomes the heartbeat of my prose, steady and unyielding, yet gentle and soothing.

In these moments, I am reminded that writing is not just an act of creation, but an act of survival. It is a way to navigate the labyrinth of my mind, to find meaning in the seemingly meaningless, and to give voice to the silent corners of my heart. The rain, with its persistent presence, becomes a metaphor for the resilience of the human spirit, a testament to the fact that no matter how many times we are broken, we can always find a way to piece ourselves back together.

So, I write. I write because the rain demands it, because my soul craves it, and because in these fleeting moments of connection, I find a sense of peace that eludes me in the sunlight. The rain may fall, the wind may howl, but as long as I have words, I will never be truly lost.

? Beatriz Esmer