Today's prompt was to write about a gift you'd give yourself. There's no greater gift than the gift of forgiveness. It's raining outside this afternoon.
Rainy Sunday Afternoon
You’ve been holding onto this for too long—
This imperishable burden lingers in the air
thick with humidity, the sky
An infinity of grey. The last rays of sunlight
Recede into the distance. How long
Have you been carrying this?
Across a continent, from one ocean
To another, guilt lugged around,
Follows you like a turbulent cloud follows
The monsoon trough. It’s Sunday afternoon.
Even the day itself weighs heavy
on the shoulders, an inevitable catastrophe,
an undulation of hope and despair, of rain and sun.
Thunder mutters its warning in the distance.
Sometimes, the weather gives us no choice
but to let go of everything, to give in to the pull
of a rainy Sunday afternoon.
The tea kettle whistles as raindrops
Dither on the windows. Light flashes
Across the darkening sky. Thunder
Tears this day in two—before and after,
a consummation, as a terrible lagniappe
of rain tumbles from the slate of sky,
the warm balm of forgiveness.