Shower of rain

I used to think penning poetry was a release.
Brewing in worrisome thoughts on actions not perpetrated by me that rendered my emotions as collateral damage.
Anxiety and sadness stirred in me that I could not resolve by reason and logic

After you were removed from my life, I stopped writing.

I visited your grave everyday.
One day
The first day of summer
A shower of rain
soaked me beneath the clothes dampening me further
in what felt like soggy sorrow.

But that same shower of rain brought change and after the gloom
the loom of unexpected light.
What once was wrought and grey with grief
was able to to settle and sink
mulched to feed new growth
sprouts of rejuvenation in finding clarity
within what was clouded and covered in the thunderstorm of mixed grief….