ode to a rainy day

it rained the day she died. Not the soft rain that tickles your nose, as if it is falling from heaven, but the battling war-like rain. The rain that falls so hard and so fast that it seems to be deriving no more than inches above your head.The rain that pounds on your forehead when you look up to catch a glimpse of what may lie within the stars. It was harsh rain, and it came from all different directions. At one point, it wasn't falling at all; rather, it seemed to be rocketing straight towards her face. Her body broke the path of its painful fire.This was beauty; the rain was beauty. She flattened her body against the pavement and allowed the bombardment of drops to pour onto her face, making her entire body limp.