The Rain

Poetry by | May 2, 2022

In the quietness of this slow moving vehicle is a still show of a salad bowl earth. It has started raining again, and the thin glass that separates you and what you see blurs the colors into the tones of mud and moss. You watch as the droplets fall and die in submission to the physics of rain. Everything must fall, it is the law. You watch the plight of the dead droplets flowing down the car window collecting themselves into one spectacular curtain of wetness. And you. You are here calm and collected, in this slow moving vehicle, sitting with a frost feeling, tracing moist glass with cold fingers. It’s been very quiet here but there’s an uproar of scenery and destruction of it out there. Meanwhile, the narra remains wise and satisfied. The rivers hushed. Birds tucked in their nests, wings folded away neatly.

Haidene Mae Go is an aspiring writer from Bislig City, Surigao del Sur.

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