100 Words: Flood Rain’s Faithful Sister.
Rains come, pounding rooftops, saturating every
inch of soil down to the deep. Water creeps
under floorboards, pours past garage
doors, gushes into low-lying collection basins.
Bridges connecting small country roads turn
impassable, the ones
at the bottom of mountains
near abandoned railroad tracks.
Grief is a sister to flood rain.
Holding hands, they roll over restraining walls.
Together they stream, surge, cascade — out over the land
of the heart, into valleys of the mind, through the dark woods.
Grief is love out of the cage —
overflowing, endless love.
Grief is love realized and released.
Grief is love let free.
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