Emotive Powers - Blog Prompt #5

When I cry, it rains. Every major distressing life event I've experienced has been capped with grayness, oppressive clouds bearing down on the ground in an effort to become one with the earth, to suffocate me, to give in to my wishes.

With my tears, I control the atmosphere, give hardier physicality to the tiny, personal, and ultimately worthless drops of salty water that trail my cheeks, stain my lips brighter with their moisture, a crude lip gloss. They do not satisfy me. They are not enough.

I must escape the binds of my own body, bring my emotion to the masses of air and cloud, move them with my hefty shudders, the puffs of sigh escaping from my mouth. I must become something bigger than myself, than what plagues me. I must give it to my land, drive the cycle, give growth to what surrounds me even as I shrivel myself, drain all my waters into the ground, let it soak the life from within me, give it up to the sky until the stuffing bursts open, falls to the ground again.

Is it an heaving cry? Let there be thunder, mimic the groans of grief from my belly! Let there be lightning, imitate my flashes of memory in their destruction! Is it an angry cry? Let there be hail, mime the pounding of pain through my head! Let there be wind, tornado or hurricane, enact the rampant flutter of my heart as it explodes in my chest! Is it a soft, silent cry? Let there be sprinkles or glitters of snow, blanket and cleanse my soul.

Or is it a joyful cry? Let there be life from whence these tears stream. I'll find a field, crank up my music, dance for hours in trance on my own. For I am the Goddess of Rain. It is I who bring the waters or drought.