Soaking

I saw you standing at the bus stop,

outside the shelter,

in the rain.

Your hair

hanging like a string mop,

your sopping clothes

stuck to your weary bones.

I wondered

why you didn't come inside.

I wondered

why you weren't running for shelter.

I wondered

if maybe, you were trying

to drown your sorrows,

or wash away your demons.

I wondered

if you even felt the rain at all.

Then as it fell, harder and harder,

pelting you with every drop,

as the lightning flashed,

and the thunder clapped

and the rain poured down, down, down on you;

I swear I heard the sky curse your name.

And you just stood there,

with a smile,

soaking it all in.