Poem Written by Dot Sutton and Read At the 2008 Water Ceremony
TO MY MOTHER FOR LOVING THE RAIN
(for Mary Swope Moseley 1909-1993)
Thank you for loving the rain
For calmly, serenely accepting the rain
Searching out the benefits,
never flinching at the threats
of Superhuman light and noise
Awed instead by mystery
Teaching us to have respect, not to be afraid
Of the “tater wagon” noise over wooden bridges
rumbling thunder made.
Not panicking us through cellar doors
To huddle in silence and wait out the storm,
Affirmation’s firm foundation
Enabling us to climb above.
When thunderstorms struck, we raced for the porch,
Snuggled close in quilted comforters
Against the rain-cooled air,
A part of the rain, apart from the rain,
Kind to ourselves.
When rain set in and lasted day and night
We retreated to the kitchen
For the needed warmth and light,
Kindling cookie warmth against the cold
Drowning out the thunder of the storm
With comb and tissue paper song,
In tune with soothing messages
Tapped out by the rain on the roof.
* * *
When thunder faded distantly away (it always did)
We stripped to bare essentials, close to the rain
Exposing skins to an element
Primarily familiar,
Which never lost its touch, and
We never lost our feeling for,
Testing it in every fiber,
Tasting it on tip of tongue,
Leaping and reaching and marveling
At Easter egg colors arched in the sky,
Breathing in the honeysuckle,
It, too, reborn in the rain.
Enraptured by the unreal green
Ignoring thorn and briar sting
Or cuts by rocks that had not yet come round
(Except for an occasional crying out,
As if slapped into life again)
So totally immersed were we
In feeling rain-drenched grass
Against bare feet.
* * *
Though you admitted
That sleet was trouble, misery, death
I heard you go
Back to the kitchen window
Heard you breathe an ecstatic OH,
Look at that cardinal against the snow.
Thank you for loving the rain.
We were nourished in rain,
Learned our lessons in rain.
Moved to laughter, moved to tears
Moved to grow through unfolding years
Not angry, not resentful, not afraid.
Wanting to be touched, embraced by tenderness
But always gently braced, in case,
Against the storm, able to insulate and isolate
With quilted comforts, to stay on safe porches
When lightning is rife
But also able to emerge from quilt cocoons,
Immerse, submerge ourselves, drenched
To the deepest feelings within, bold,
Able to breathe the ecstatic OH.
And when the inevitable cuts and bruises came,
To accept also the pain
As a small price to pay
For loving the rain.
–Published Kentucky Poetry
Review, Fall, 1984
Reprinted. Pegasus,
Spring/Summer, 1994: pp.16, 17.
