Everything Is Washed Away

My shoes shift against the drenched pavement, and the rainwater ripples, distorting the surface as I take heavy steps.

The rain pounds down with no mercy, like a machine gun; as the winds violently howl down these deserted streets. The roaring gales send the rainwater out of the gutters to cascade down the road, leaving nothing dry in its wake.

A hood conceals my face. Hides my sunken cheeks and callous eyes from the grim weather, and from anyone else who may cross my path. I am sheathed in dark bulky clothing from head to toe, unfortunately, the dense rainfall in the eye of a storm finds sly ways to soak even the most protected areas of skin.

My head remains down, and my sight never wanders beyond the horizon. My hands still are stiff by my side, still in clenched fists. Nevertheless, I have fragile bones and a frail heart, and my grip could give just as easily. I roll up my sleeves and inspect my hands with hesitation, quivering as I can still distinctively see the smothered bloodstains all over my palms.

I leave my arms exposed to the raging downpour, and the evidence soon washes from my pallid hands and onto the submerged cement, cleansing me of any sin.

I raise my head to the flooded murky clouds and continue lumbering onwards,

as if nothing happened at all.