At stoplights,
I watch people walk in the rain
from behind furrows of water running down the windshield
that are swept away by the wipers,
revealing through
momentarily clear glass
forms in liquid motion
faces like wet petals, or the undersides of leaves tossed up
before a storm
faces washed out so that this time, the forms reveal the individuals.
A slight figure huddles herself
wrapping up , tucking in a birdlike chin
One line of a man shields with his black overcoat
firmly drawn across his chest
A hopping boy tries to outrun the raindrops
And place his feet outside the puddles
and last to cross the intersection, a woman with no umbrella
and no hood,
who refuses to be rushed by rain, by waiting cars, by
flashing lights or crosswalk chirps.
she strides, hands swinging free, face turned up—
she almost drinks the rain
and radiates that rain,
the cleanser and creator
I vow to not wrap, duck, shield, or run, but
stride, face drinking the skies, like this last woman- whom
I can’t take my eyes off
as the light turns green
I like this! I especially like the descriptions of the individual people.
ReplyDeleteI wonder how you, in the warm dry car, fit into this collection of people (if at all), or if you are just an observer? I wonder if, in addition to being mesmerized by the last woman, you somehow identify with her...Do you feel that you are different than her and want to be more like her, or do you feel that you and she have something in common already? That might be interesting to hear more about.
Yes, I think it might be important that the warm dry bubble contrasts with each person's way of fighting through adversity.
ReplyDeleteOn a more technical end of things, I want to slice and dice the first part--I think if you start with the windshield (maybe "my" windshield, which grounds the image of you watching from the car, which for some reason took me rereading to get it) and then end that part with the people. The sound of the wipers, the rivulets and (this is neat/symbolic, etc) the *moments* of clarity. Go from you through the windshield to the people.
I love the "undersides of leaves" image!! Although I'm a little lost in this section with the forms in liquid motion.
So maybe you can find something for your relationship with the people to connect about, and then also the concept of being in the safe/dry bubble versus having to deal with adversity--except maybe not, because I don't think it should be about class or anything like that; don't dwell on the bubble--maybe it's just a place to ponder adversity and our ways of dealing with it (I think that's more to the point--the different ways of dealing with it, not the fact of being in it or out of it)
eeeeee!!
Hope that makes some kind of sense. <3
(edits based on your wonderful comments :-) Happy January Thunderstorm...)
ReplyDeleteRain Walkers
At stoplights
I watch people walk in the rain
from behind furrows of water running down my windshield
that are swept away by the wipers.
Momentarily clear glass reveals
forms in liquid motion
faces like wet petals, or the undersides of leaves tossed up before a storm
faces washed out, bleached, so
shapes and motions reveal the individuals.
A slight figure huddles herself
wrapping up , tucking in a birdlike chin
One line of a man shields with his black overcoat
firmly drawn across his chest
A hopping boy tries to outrun the raindrops
And place his feet outside the puddles
and last to cross the intersection, a woman with no umbrella and no hood,
who refuses to be rushed by rain, by waiting cars, by flashing lights or crosswalk chirps.
She strides, hands swinging free, face turned up—
she almost drinks the rain, cleanser and creator
and radiates it back
Warm and dry, I wonder
in the rain, would I duck, shield, or hop?
I hope I would stride, face drinking the skies, like this last woman
I hope she feels my smile from inside
as the light turns green
and I splash ahead