You are rain drops falling free of pregnant clouds drooping low in the sky, unknowing of the fate that will splatter you across dry concrete and bend delicate flower petals beneath the weight of your destiny. And I – I am the stunted flower beneath the shade of a rickety old fence, leaves chewed up and spit out, petals mangled by violent trampling footsteps and lack of sunlight. A shade of colour not so vibrant. A stem worn out and suffering, stooped over with a splinter for a cane. I do not understand how you, the rain drops, could bear to fall so far without hesitation – how you do not cling to the clouds and abandon yourself to fear. It must be dark within the belly of the clouds – a safe place to be.The shadows are not nearly a safer place for the sun is sure to shine in even the darkest of cracks and the children are not so fond of leaving empty handed. And once uprooted, I fear, my petals shall make a trail for poor children and they shall laugh at my drooping head.
Oh, poor rain drops, you’ve been captured within a watering can and so it is proven.
We are fated to misery.
I thirst for a second chance but what fool would care for the flower with missing petals? What fool would save the rain trapped within barrels? I fear the end is near, but grimy fingers slip my thirsting roots in a glass and I wonder if this – this change of place – will save me. Sweet rain drops shed yourselves upon my wilted petals and revive me from the depths of my despair. I will repay you by becoming a shade of colour more vibrant than any other. I will straighten my stem and throw away my cane. I will thank you, for you were braver than I.
-by Sabryna Brooks, age 19
