Dear Reader,
This past week NYC experienced three straight days of heavy rain. Blessed enough to work most days from home, I spent those days watching the rain from the comfort of my study, admiring the droplets as they danced down my window, thanking God that I was spending the days indoors. Of course, outside, under the deluge, it’s a different experience. Struck by the difference between my relative comfort and the struggles of those commuting in the rain, a poem was born.
I tried to capture the frustration of being caught in the rain without an umbrella and how in those moments, especially when life is already difficult it seems that the world is conspiring against us. The perspective of the poem further highlights the dilemma, a man watching from relative comfort watching another man struggling, aware of his needs, but unmoved to help. In that, the poem wrestles with our role in the suffering of others, many of us at times like bystanders watching a car wreck, curious but uninvolved.
I wonder what else might come through as you read it. If you think of anything good, let me know, after all, meaning is a shared experience.
Enjoy!
-Ryan
THREE DAYS OF RAIN In the gloom, he looks like a shadow, His coat turned up around his neck, An umbrella at his side, useless, Splayed out like a fat black spider Crushed under a boot. With a look akin to defiance He stares down the cloud muddled sky, Protesting some perceived injustice, As if the whole world plots against him— The sky in cahoots With his poorly made umbrella, God sitting, snickering on his throne, Satisfied with his suffering (his soaked socks stewing in his shoes).