The Old Church

 Today's dark and gloomy. The weather reminds me of a painting set in the dark gothic era. The grey nimbus clouds seem to be carrying too much baggage and are in dire need to get rid of it. The rain is making people stay in their homes. But here I am out on the lonely streets of Tirano, Italy. 

Not bringing an umbrella is a conscious decision. It's been a long time since I've felt the rain, let alone danced in it. It seems as if I've associated this weather with an emotion. But I could go on and on talking about emotions. It never ends. So for once, I'd rather not. Instead, let me tell you about this beautiful church I visited. As I'm walking on the empty streets of this ghost town, a clock tower catches my eye. It is magnificently large with a grand fresco painting depicting two men carrying a bunch of grapes. A large door bears the entrance to this rather tiny church. 

The door opens with an eerie creek. As I step in, a musky peppery smell hits me. There are no lights whatsoever. The walls are dull and old. The paint seems to be cracked from surviving the years. But the eyes of Mary and Jesus look at me with the same emotions they would have possessed the day they were painted. Offerings of purple and pink hydrangea flowers are placed in a vase by the locals. There are barely four benches in total. And the wood of those benches is light brown and scratched. I take a seat tentatively on those rickety benches, as I hear the rain pouring outside. I sit still looking at the stained glass windows. And before I realize , tears drop from my eyes. The salty drops touch my lips. And for once, I hadn't tried to stop myself. I suppose I've gotten comfortable with suppressing my feelings.

Suppression leads to outbursts. I should've known that. But here I am in this calm, serene church crying to nobody and being vulnerable to whatever energy is present. Maybe I too need to get rid of the excess baggage I'm carrying around, just like the clouds. The clock strikes six times and I take it as an indication to go home. I hastily wipe my tears. I feel my mind getting clearer and walk out of that beautiful old church, dancing in the rain.