Poem “Weather”

Weather

The ceiling of the sky gathers in dark folds. I hide inside a box, hoping they might recognize me. Its droplets weep for the fate I once believed in.

An imprisonment that keeps repeating itself. The echo of rain pierces my ears. Over time, the pitter-patter seeps into me like an incantation that bends my body into surrender. I dance as I say, Look at me! They begin to see me. Yet when the thunder strikes, my traces dissolve into the water, flowing down the street. No one is there.

The cold of that day made me forget how much warmth I had ever felt.

I guess I have never truly met myself. My body is made of reverie, of beliefs they once held. None remember my name, yet the hand that holds my hope feels more real than the reflection they adored.

When the sunlight begins to appear, it casts a reflection. “Is that you?” I ask. Its brightness frightens me.

However, I no longer know where home is.

© 2025 Yanma Hidayah