Hope is like a soft rain,

the tranquil pitter patter of water on the window sill,

a hushed whisper of wind, calming your nerves.

All worries wash away

as a streetlight illuminates the faint drizzle on a cold dark night in the middle of a lonely city.

Serenity seeps into the soul and petrichor permeates the senses.

The fall of each raindrop echos the beating of a heart,

reminding you that somehow,

somewhere,

there is life.


The dry desert erupts with flowers.

Leaves turn red and orange and yellow,

animals leave their dens.

You trust again.


The day may come when it will all fade,

and the soft rain might become a storm that washes away worries

but takes you with them.


Until that day

the rain is nothing but a life reborn,

a mother with her child in her arms,

a child with unbridled laughter,

a light behind the clouds as the water cleanses all you’ve known.