Let this heavy rain remind you
of your fear of lightnings
and thunders and of your desperation
to be home early. I do not want to prolong
our agony, especially now that the rainwater
drips from the edges of this umbrella, like a curtain
reminding us of our circle, our space from the rest.
Remember, this is not the relationship you want.
In your dreams, we are in my car or perhaps
in a pizza house, waiting for the rain to stop.
Remember, in your dreams, I am handing you
a bunch of flowers, not this rusty-handled umbrella.
Remember, in your dreams, you are the only one I think
about and care about, because in your dreams, you only dream.
Now, we let the silence become the lyrics
to the rhythms of our footsteps
as we walk together under this heavy rain.
I, retarding my steps, and you, trying to catch
my pace, as we pretentiously await each other
somewhere, sometime in the middle
of this engagement, in my last try to be with you.
Our ears awaiting thunder after the lightning
are the same ears that await words after handshakes
and nods. When the ear is ready, and the thunder fails,
imagine the loss of an anticipated
fear. Then, now, imagine how it is like to wait
for anticipated words unexpressed.
atenews.org
Dagmay
