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Rain by Raymond Carver

The year is ending. Some things are destroyed: a city, plans, relationships. Yet some things are also being rebuilt: this house. My life.

Raymond Carver

Woke up this morning with
a terrific urge to lie in bed all day
and read. Fought against it for a minute.

Then looked out the window at the rain.
And gave over. Put myself entirely
in the keep of this rainy morning.

Would I live my life over again?
Make the same unforgiveable mistakes?
Yes, given half a chance. Yes.

Comments (4)

  • i like what you wrote more than the poem. no offend to Raymond Carver though.

  • Kai

    This poem’s last stanza just made me suck in a deep and shaky breath. The things poetry does. Thank you, and thank you for your hope.

  • Raymond Carver is my absolute number one favorite writer EVER. And if nobody gets that, then it’s their loss. You get it.


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