The Cloud Keeper

 The Cloud Keeper

My legs were tired, the day was long, 

I listened to music,  

I hummed a song.  

Then something caught my eye, something strange, something awry. 

I rubbed my eyes, I pinched my skin,

A man with a cloud hung over him.

This can’t be real, I must be tired,

No way this is how my night transpires.

“Excuse me, sir, there’s a cloud overhead,”

I spoke to the man, and then I said,

“Do you feel its weight, the rain it brings?

Or does it just hover, a shapeless thing?”

I watched as the clouds took form in his sky, I couldn’t help but wonder “why?” 

He put down his book, straightened his tie,  and gave a long and drawn out sigh:

“It follows me, rain or shine,

Through hail and snow—this cloud is mine.

It might seem odd or set me apart,

But this cloud is my burden and my art.”

I stared for a while, unsure what to say,

Fiddled my fingers, looked away.

“Isn’t there a song to sing,

A spell to cast, a magic ring?

Can’t you scare away that thing?”

He met my gaze with saddened eyes,

Dropped his head, his voice got quiet:

“My dear, I can’t escape my clouds,

Any more than you can escape your doubts.

These ‘shapeless things’ are angry now,

But you should see the sun come out.”

I looked at him, unsure again,

But then an idea sparked within:

“An umbrella!” I cried. “It’ll do the trick!”

People stared, but I didn’t flinch.

“That will keep you dry, perhaps!”

He met my words with a hearty laugh.

“Dear girl, your heart is truly gold,

But you’re not hearing what you’re told.

Yes, these clouds do rain, it’s true,

But that, my friend, is nothing new.

These clouds do take their toll,

But understand—they’re tied to my soul.

If you took my clouds away today,

You’d take my soul and sun away.

So while the rain may leave a mess,

I’ll take the storm over emptiness.”

No more grand solutions came to mind,

No answers clear, no cure to find.

I looked at the man with a gentle smile,

Hoping to ease his heart a while:

“I like your cloud, I think it’s nice—

Even when there’s rain or ice.

Yes, it may be a part of you,

But that’s just it—it’s part of you.

The cloud does not decide your pain,

It doesn’t choose when it must rain.

Though storms may linger, don’t you know?

After every storm comes a rainbow.”

He looked at me with forgiving eyes,

“My dear, you do not realize,

This cloud you see, though heavy and gray,

Holds more than storms—it lights my way.

Its rain has washed away my fear,

Its thunder taught me what’s sincere.

Though others see a burden to bear,

I see the beauty hidden there.”

I listened close, my heart unsure,

Was this the answer? Was this the cure?

Perhaps the clouds we each possess

Are gifts disguised in their distress.

“I see,” I said, with quiet thought,

“The lessons that your clouds have taught.

And though the storm may sometimes stay,

It paints the skies in its own way.”

He smiled then, both kind and wise,

A trace of sunlight in his skies.

“My dear,” he said, “you’ve come to see,

The clouds are not my enemy.

They shape my days, my highs, my lows,

And help me bloom as the storm cloud grows.

So when you find a cloud of your own,

Remember—you’re never alone.”

I wrote The Cloud Keeper because I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the burdens we all carry—the ones no one else can see. Life has a way of throwing storms at us, and it’s natural to wish for clear skies all the time. But I’ve started to wonder: what if those clouds we dread are part of what makes us who we are?

The idea for this poem came from imagining someone who actually carried their clouds with them, right there for the world to see. At first, I thought about how much that would weigh them down, how unfair it would be. But then I realized—it’s not just the rain and storms that matter. Those clouds can teach us things, shape us, and maybe even hold some beauty of their own.

The man in the poem, The Cloud Keeper, reminded me of how often we try to fix other people’s struggles. We want to help, to hand them an umbrella or find a way to make their skies clear. But not everything is meant to be fixed. Sometimes, people don’t need us to take their clouds away—they just need us to understand them.

One line that sticks with me is, “Perhaps the clouds we each possess / Are gifts disguised in their distress.” I think that’s true. My struggles have been painful, but they’ve also taught me things I wouldn’t have learned otherwise. I wouldn’t be who I am without them.

If you’re reading this, I hope it helps you see your own storms in a different light. Instead of wishing them away, maybe try to think about what they’ve brought to your life. And if you notice someone else carrying a heavy cloud, don’t rush to fix it for them. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is just be there, rain and all.

After all, the rain makes the rainbows. 🌈