Dread - A blatant metaphor

A frail mist spritzes the sidewalk,
constantly,
relentlessly,
never-ceasing.
A whisper,
the undulled murmur.
A faint drop brushes against my skin,
igniting my cells,
commanding hair to attention;
sensation shoots up my arm,
embracing nerve endings,
and triggering synapses.
No one else noticed.
Not yet.
But my mind still races,
my heart canters to keep up.
Internal body heat is up,
all senses alerted,
prepared.
Another droplet makes contact,
striking more than the skin.
Eyes close.
Chest constricts.
Legs beg to run.
Face yearns to be covered from shame.
But I stay planted,
shoulders back,
head level.
Mind, body, and soul plead
to turn,
run,
hide,
cower,
apologize.
With an enormous effort,
knees bend,
foot staccatos the sidewalk,
landing inches away.
Other foot repeats.
Society affronted,
rain pummels
every inch of me,
coating the area in its intent.
Body -
manipulated,
twisted,
torn,
cold,
questioned.
Mind -
seizing,
begging,
panicking,
bargaining,
afraid.
Soul –
guilting,
criticizing,
attacking,
slamming,
condemning.
Regardless,
Another staccato.
Another step.
More rain,
more condemnation.
They beg,
they accuse,
they plead,
“Use an umbrella.”
“Your raincoat hangs in the closet.”
“Get out of the rain.”
“Find your raincoat.”
“It’s unnatural.”
“You’d be better off with your raincoat.”
“You’re sick.”
“You’ve always worn your raincoat.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Put your raincoat back on.”
Another step.
Rain seeps through my skin,
balls up and rolls down my back,
drips from my hair,
weighing down every part of me down.
A blink,
the wetness coats my eyelashes,
skewing my perception.
I hear nothing but the rain,
its acidity lining my lips,
and devouring my world.
Numb.
I refuse to lose myself to the rain.
Water enveloping my body, mind, and soul,
I take another step.
Emptiness echoes down the alleyway,
accompanied only by the smell of torrential rain,
and hundreds of faces pressed against Plexiglas windows.
Their incredulous judgments drafted the weather,
and I know their intrigued anger all too well.
I will not join them.
I will not go back in hiding,
away from the rain.
But I will continue to move,
drenched,
in the hopes that someday,
one more face will be persuaded,
to shut their umbrella,
strip off their galoshes,
peel off their raincoats,
hold their head high,
and their shoulders back,
and dance in the rain.

-becca