Rain in the Night (and other poems)

Where I live, it's been rainy and cold; the trees are bare, the skies are gray, and the chill of winter is just about settling in. The geese have flown away, and the fallen leaves are scuttering about the drenched sidewalks. And I've been thinking lately, about a lot of things—about the world and about my life, about stories and dreams, about grief and faith, about the past and the present and the future. I've been feeling bittersweet; I've been feeling nostalgic.

Recently, I dug up some old poems I had written a couple years back. I found them when cleaning out my Docs, and after I read through them, I decided I would share them with you here. They're raw and mostly unedited, but I like them. They really match my mood.

I wrote "Rain in the Night," "The Call of the Geese," "Wolves," and "Hurtful Looks and Hurtful Words" throughout 2022 and 2023. Most of them were written in the autumn. Some of them are unfinished, but I've decided to post them here, the way they are. "Wolves" is one that is particularly special to me because it's the first bifurcated poem I've ever written; you can read the left and right column independently, or both columns together, from left to right. I hope you enjoy!

Rain in the Night

In the quiet stillness, I drift away

Into the world of sleep,

For unknown time; and then I wake

From the clutches of dream deep.

I lay for a while, with a silent smile,

Listening to the wind and the rain;

For wild if falls, and wild it calls,

And calls to me again.

Like the rush of water, the flood of a lake,

The shake of a quaking storm;

Like the wrath of the sky pouring o’er the earth,

The wind and the rain, they swarm.

Then it fades to a trickle, a baby stream,

Bubbling quiet and light.

I sigh a deep sigh, and I close my eyes.

And drift away with the rain in the night.

The Call of the Geese

Two lone geese, their longing calls

Sound at break of day.

Amid the rain that gently falls

Their cries, they fade away.

Wolves

Wolves, wolves               I hear wolves

In my sleep                    Crying

In the depths                 In my dreams

I hear them                   Howling

But when I wake          In the night

They are gone              When I wake

Their voices                 They fade

They are gone              Just an echo

Just an echo                 Is left

An echo                       An echo

Of the crying               Of the crying

Of the wolves              Of the wolves.

Hurtful Looks and Hurtful Words

Hurtful looks and hurtful words

Pierce like knives into my heart.

I wish that I could soar like birds,

But darkness slings its dart.

I wish—I wish I could be different—

But what good would that do?

Yet, suppose I’d have no tale to tell,

If I were just like you.

Who cares of glory, who cares of fame?

Who cares of who I am?

In the end, it’s just a song,

And I am just a name.

I can’t be filled with empty words,

Nor fly in pouring rain—

Yet deep within I yearn to be

Healed, and soar again.

Thank you for reading! <3