Rainstorm by Susana Mohel

People say when you’re dying your entire life passes before your eyes.
But it is not my time.
I’m not about to take my final breath.
Although it feels like the end of my life.
The blue folder sits, stamped with bold black letters.
Laughing at me. Mocking my marriage. Targeting my dream.
All is going away, imploding. The future I’ve envisioned becoming just debris.
The man I love requesting a divorce.
Making me collapse.
Drowning in an ocean of pain and confusion, I refuse to let this end my life.
This is hard, but I’m stronger.
The rainstorm is hitting me full force, but I’ll stand.
After all, I’m the woman who owns the sunshine.