Originally published October 10, 2020, when rain finally arrived in western Oregon after unprecedented wind-driven September wildfires.
Blessed rain
On smoldering fires
On fields of wheat freshly sown
Germinating
Reawakening
Calling chanterelles from the Earth
Blessed rain
Reminding us that fires end
That droughts end
There will always be some new crisis
Some new horror
Somewhere on this giant planet
To be funneled onto our little screens
To lay claim to our empathy
To prevent us from experiencing the joy
Of blessed rain
Blessed rain
Reminding us that we are not in charge here
That we could never move this much water
With all of our fancy technology
And that we will never have that power
We fashion ourselves as gods
Claiming dominion
Over land, sea, and air
Over disease
Over each other
And yet we are anxious gods
For we cannot even control the weather
Or the ever-evolving biosphere
Or the intricate workings of our bodies and minds
Or our own inevitable mortality
And so we live in fear
It is sadly ironic
That we have created our greatest dangers
In pursuit of comfort and safety
Nuclear weapons
Fossil fuels
Plastics
Chemicals spread far and wide
So many creations of human ingenuity
Each useful in a reductionist sense
But harmful to the whole
In ways that we do not see
When we pretend to have dominion
That is not ours to claim
Blessed rain
On Trump flags
And Biden signs
On bankers’ mansions
And the tents of the unhoused
On skylights above children peacefully asleep
And windshields of night shift truck drivers
On pastures
And forests
And city streets
On a community of humans
More committed to seeing differences
Than shared experiences
More committed to fear and suspicion
Than acceptance
So divided
That we fail to acknowledge
Our common humanity
So distracted
That we fail to notice
Blessed rain
Like the seed extending first roots
Raising fragile leaves to greet the autumn sun
We too are beginning to awaken
From the trance that has kept us
Distracted
Afraid
Divided
Blessed rain
Bringing us back
Into the present
Blessed rain
Softly dissolving
The illusion of control
Thank you for sharing this. Blessed Rain. This poem expresses something I came to understand more of just yesterday, how I am digging out continued deep rooted fears which are ultimately distrust of the physical world. Understanding more personally, the control we habitually live in to deny our fear of death, which is life’s natural cycle. The tension, the resistance, anxiety, the conflict within the body and everything else around it as we strive to maintain a sense of control. (Sprawled out on ground with my hands opens singing blessed rain! I let go!)