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Sponge
by Ethan Hugh
When it rains, we don’t get wet.
The droplets touch the ground just enough
To caress it so tenderly
The ground kisses the rain
And the rain hugs the ground
But they are strangers to each other
Even though they are face to face
The water runs dry even though it’s wet
The soil left arid even with the sprinkle of the sky
When it rains, we don’t get wet.
That’s the problem with umbrellas
That’s the problem with hoodies
That’s the problem with jackets
That’s the problem with raincoats
The rain was left; the rain was left unfelt
When it rains, we don’t get wet.
When our lips pour with overflowing thought
We have the rain on our garments
But we don’t take it under our skin
So fold our umbrellas
Pull back our hoodies
Disarm from our jackets
Trust that despite the downpour, the lightning won’t strike.
The droplet is there and the ground proximate
When it rains, we don’t get wet
For we need to get down, drenched, and soaked
To feel the rain,
To sense the idea
To catch the thought
To reveal the self
To understand what we feel.
When it rains, then we’ll get wet.
For all along, we have to let the rain in
To appreciate what the rain brings.
