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when the rain comes

When the rain comes, she hides.

At the first clouds, she starts,
Turns to the door, slams the bolt,
Hides herself in the darkest corner.

When the rain comes, it attacks,
Bashing and beating its torrential fists
On the old, rusted tin roof, almost

As if it wants to break its way in.
It rushes and pulses, bursts against
The windows and is spent.

She regains her breath, exhales slowly.

When the rain comes, the river swells,
Pregnant, overflowing with life,
Bursting with secrets. A dark shadow

becomes a man, familiar in face,
knocking on the door. He brings the rain,
or the rain brings him, it does not matter;

she hides herself, waits for light to return.
Wills herself small, like she was before him,
Wills her child to the belly of the river.

When the rain comes, she remembers.



© Marziya Mohammedali, 2001-2013