“Rain,” a poem by Zinnia Magill ’24

Rain
To like the rain is cliche and to not like the rain is expected. 
But what if you're jealous of it?

The serene extreme of freefall, 
lightly landing on anything below.
Taking with it the impurities that covered that surface.
to leave it cleaner, and more beautiful after hurdling toward it at full speed. 

I wish I could be that intensely good. 
To be able to throw my all at something 
and have it come out better than before.

Fuck you, rain,
with your perfect storm,
and seducing skies. 
I wish I had 
the ability to
peacefully 
and powerfully 
perfect something, 
like you. 

I stare
from my window, 
wishing, 
I was free falling.
But when I hit the ground, 
instead of blood, 
or pain, 
or tears, 
a cat would stare intently out the window,
or a little kid would tilt their head back, 
eyes closed with the expectation of a cold splattering kiss.

I wish I was the Rain.