A poem about the Turks and Rufus when Aerith's healing rain falls at the end of Advent Children. The line spacing isn't as I want it - the full stops are only to make a line break, but I also wanted breaks after the first line of each stanza.
Rain
This healing rain…
She learned to shut away her childish dreams:
Thoughts of a sister, whose face is a memory that blurs with her own reflection,
And a never-to-be-repeated offer of dinner.
But this rain
As it falls,
Clatters and clicks as it drips
From the hard angles of the fire escape
And she hears a locked box opening.
.
This rain –
Even this rain can't change everything.
Those left alive
Have so much to atone for.
The rain reiterates
The steady drumming of his heart
Witnessing a miracle.
What's done is still unchangeable.
But the clean rain falls
Bright with unsullied possibilities.
.
This rain!
It changes everything!
Under its blue green grey
He burns phoenix bright.
Quick staccato beats pulse in him
With a live electric fizz.
Seriously though –
Together we could rebuild…
He quickens to this new tempo.
Now we can rebuild.
Seriously.
.
This rain –
Ricochets
Scattered shotgun pellets
That heal instead of wounding.
The skeletons of tall buildings
Will grow their skins, now,
And their shadows are no longer the shadow
Of a father, looming seventy storeys high,
Above a wondering child.
The fairytales he was told –
Promised lands, a heritable kingdom -
Revealed, at their monstrous hearts,
A stricken prince, the dying earth,
A high tower, falling.
And as this rain falls
He thinks that only children still believe
In happy-ever-afters.
And yet this rain brings with it strange green magic
And the sudden gift of time.
.
This rain falls
And he does not think
Of haiku and spring showers
Over Mount Da Chao
Only - black and white:
Ink-dark stains on pale linen
Chalk and slate, washed clean.