The empty plastic packet escapes its captor and runs down the street
Disappearing with the wind.
The horizon comes alive as trees sway with abandon.
The lone blackbird is seen hastily making its way back home.
That’s when I feel it.
The first drop,
Singeing my cheek,
Languidly making it’s way to my chin.
I look upto the sky for the first time.
Angry grey clouds veiling the sun stare back at me.
They seem desperate for release.
But something more powerful seems to be holding them back.
What is it?
What’s stopping them from unleashing sheets of rain
that will slide down from above
Hit the concrete and jump into a puddle?
“What’s stopping you?” I ask out loud
Chin tilted upwards, lips parted, eyes impatiently flitting across the scene above
I await a response.
For the longest time the clouds don’t reply
The tendons in my neck start to ache and I begin to look down
That’s when I hear it
The faintest sound whispering
At first the words seem too quiet, too incoherent
But they start to get louder, clearer
Those sounds become words that string together in a singular sentence that suffuses my being.
“You, are stopping us.”