Gray rains mist over,

Abundantly dull and cold.

But I stay right here.

Like rain, tears can be stormy or just a light sprinkle, feel angry and cold or dreary and sad. Rain
used to symbolize the passing of a change, or the end of dark days. Rain here in Sho is often
referred to as heaven’s tears. Tears can be the result of release of inner tension. People frequently
cry from relief that their pains are over or that they can see a solution where there appeared to be
a problem. Those who suffer from a trauma or a loss normally cry a little after the first shock of
finding out and also as the awful pressure of the news is absorbed and the grief sets in. This is
when they may have lost someone important to them. However, often times other people cry
when they’ve found someone important. Sometimes after a very long period of being alone.

Rain first carries with it the dust suspended in the air, and then washes everything clean as it
continues. Emotional rain, too, can first be painful, and then begin to bring release and clarity. A
“good cry” is one that really lets go of the held feelings and trapped emotions and continues until
relief sets in and the mind is clear.

However, too much cleansing can leave people feeling spent and tired, empty and worn, or
irritable and exhausted. It can make you feel used and lackluster, and eventually the feeling of
reprieve doesn’t hold any special sensation. Although you’ve rid yourself of your trapped
emotions, now that you are clean, you don’t know how to feel anything at all.

With your dark emotions, you were wiped of the feeling of humanity. Too much cleansing…
And all becomes lost.

I believe this is the case with the people of this country.

We who have lived in the rain so long that we have forgotten the feeling of the wideness of the
blue open, clear skies or the warmth of mother Sun’s rays. We who have loved the rain for an
eternity and let the overcast gray heavens blanket us. Our lives are stifled with heavy clouds. Our
minds are being bleached with rainwater.

That is why I wish the rain would end. An eternity of rain must be enough… It must be over…
And yet…

The grayness of our sky has certain texture to it. And the rainwater gives me life.
And all of it… All of it is familiar to me.

I love listening to the rain softly hit the roof as I go to sleep. It creates a feeling of comfort and
being safe and that will lull me to sleep instantly. Only rain in Sho can take me to the realm of
dreams with such swiftness. Only those steady droplets hitting the roof can make me safe just
like I’m a kid again. The sound of the rain is closest I have ever been to the warmth of two arms
around me for a long time.

When I was a child, first beginning to take and steal for survival, I used to wander
through the forest. One day I found a shack and I decided to make it my fortress. I was still a
young kid and I loved to pretend that I needed a fort for my defense against monsters and
demons, but, in truth, I really did need that shack. I didn’t have any parents to go to, nor did I
remember how I landed in the forest anyway. That shack was my first “memory”. Since then I’ve
slept in lots of different sheds and things, even out in the open air. But I’ll always remember my
fortress. The roof was made of tin and the sound of the rain rhythmically hitting that tin roof
while I slept on the ratty old cot would gently rock me to sleep. When I was away from the
fortress, under the cover of the trees, I wanted to go back and listen to the rain patter on the roof.
I think that was the first home I’d ever had. I hope I will never forget the rain pouring above my
head as I slept.

Another thing that I loved when I was a child was Sho in the winter. In one instance, I was nine
years old, and I’d found a man to travel with me, an ex-soldier and a widowed husband named
Ling. He was like a father… If I can even understand what having a father is like… He would
carry me on his back when I was tired of walking in old snow shoes and being wrapped up in a
heavy fur coat that was too big and burdensome but that I needed to stay warm. What’d happen
is I’d wake up part-way through the journey and think “I’m safe, and warm, and someone's
taking care of me ...” and that was especially so that winter, because every winter the rain
becomes snow. Waking up to the muffled sound of the feet crunching along the path, and
knowing that Ling knew what he was doing and cared about me and my safety—and, sometimes,
seeing footprints in the snow early the next morning and knowing that some family of rabbits
was nestled away somewhere—it was a wonderful feeling.

But…
Those feelings back then…
This feeling now, this everlasting rain, soon to become this winter’s snow… How can we ever let
go of it?
The interminable waters have drawn us in and absorbed us. It’s our culture now.

But still I know...

One day, it must end.
Even I know that all things fade to blackness.