Catching Rain

I'm so sick of writing
Songs to this rain.

It pours, and pours,
And washes through my hands;
And with everything in me I reach to catch it

But it leaves me lonely,
Day after day,
And the drops that roll down my shoulders
Are enough to torture me with hopes-
Of maybe.

So I keep my hands out...
And I lose it,
Over and over again.

And I wonder what would happen,
If I just let it go...
If I didn't try to catch it,

If then, it'd pool up in my hands;
And give me something substantial
And let me drink.

But the fear of losing by not trying
Is greater than the knowing I will lose if I try...

So I just keep
My palms up,

And confuse the water with my own tears;
And beg God with everything I am-

That today, I'll end up catching rain.