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Aug 132013
 

by Jeremiah Durick

 

It’s raining. It has always been raining.

Birthdays, weddings, funerals – so many

ceremonies and celebrations in the rain.

The survivors gather under umbrellas.

They watch their father, brother, mother,

lowered down in the ground in the rain.

They disappear in the rain. The roads are

slick, mud on our shoes, by their graves.

Someone has walked across my grave.

My ghosts are gathering in the other room.

They’re anxious, impatient, remembering

their birthdays and burials in the rain.

It’s a rainy Saturday. Games are cancelled,

parties postponed. We stand in the rain

under umbrellas, watching. It’s raining.

It has always been raining.