It was during a spring rain that
I finally understood my desperate
Obsession with poetry.
With writing.
With why I write.
It was in the silence,
In the drawn breath between the
Impact of the first raindrop and
The shattering of the second
That I remembered something
I had always known, but never
Given voice to.
I write, not only to put a piece
Of myself on paper,
Immortalization, in a way,
But because I was searching
For something. Searching for some
Forgotten and lost part of myself.
Thinking, maybe in the words I say
And the words I don't,
And the reasons in between,
I would find my missing piece.
The other half of my soul.