Poetry

Rain

Dear mother,

I want to be as mighty as the thunder,
I want to be heard, to be feared,
Just like the hurricanes,
But in the world of whirlwinds,
I am weak, deficient and needy.

Why am I a weakling,
Why am I sucked backed to the clouds before I reach the ground,
Why can’t I be like my brother the El Nino,
Why can’t I also be in the history books?

Mother,
I am not even seen as your son,
Nor am I seen as your daughter,
I have no identity,
Neither a front nor a convection,
Then who am I… what am I?

Dear showers,
You are my baby,
You are young and undefined,
This shouldn’t make you cry,
For your innocence is you greatest beauty.

Why would you desire to be like your brother who sweeps away the land,
Why would you like to be the thunder that terrifies souls,
Why would you want to be in the midst of a whirl wind and cause pain and sorrow,
Do you not regard yourself as beauty and your imperfections perfect?

See how flowers blossom because of your tender touch,
See how loved ones dance under your sweet smell,
See how farmers rejoice on your arrival,
See how the children play to beat that you oust,
Do you see the love that you bring?

You may be showers,
Very light…fragile…untouched,
But see yourself not as the least but the greatest,
Find humility in your lowly place and later when you are greater,
You will look back and find joy, peace and gladness.

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