Rain

Like first love, rain came
Inara Serra - she stays across the streets
Waiting for yet another loveless night
Sold out for a handful of penny when she was twelve
Sister of sacrifice, child of hunger, bride of lust
People call her the fallen woman
People made her fall
Her helplessness is her sin,
And her redemption lies in her submission…
To her, the rain means nothing but
the wet, warm smell of a long faded
childhood…
The rain makes her sad
Yet, like first love, rain came

Like first love, rain came
Ahasver – he rests for a while
under my window, his bootheels are
muddy now
He has been rambling across
the world for many years
and is doomed to ramble for many more
People call him the Wandering Jew
People pity him too
He has seen and heard everything
And he can still see and hear
But his senses are covered with the
dust and dirt of two thousand odd years
He didn’t feel the summer fury
And he doesn’t feel the soothing raindrops either
To him, the rain means nothing but
the thirsty expectation of the Second Coming
The rain makes him thirsty…
Yet, like first love, rain came

Like first love, rain came
My neighbour – she’s an old lady
And she stays all alone
I can see the pale yellow light
from her window
She’s knitting her wool
And her pet shepherd dog
is lying on the rug, close to her feet
With his drooping toughtful eyes
and his morose chin resting on his paws
The dog’s pretty old too…
Once there was a war,
her son went to fight,
and never returned
But no letter from the army came
And so she kept on waiting
And she waits even to this day
People spared a few drops of tear for her
People forgot her pretty soon
Her own tears have dried up from inside
Now she spends her time
knitting sweaters for her son
To her the rain means nothing but
staring vacantly outside the window
for a few brief seconds
and emitting a short dry sigh
The rain doesn’t fall on her…
Yet, like first love, rain came

Rain comforts