NAPO 7

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.