You need to read this awesome 'Rain' by Fu'ad Lawal

She starts singing that song she always sings, and makes her way to the door.

I used to try to stop her, but I don’t anymore.

She tightens her wrapper firmly against her chest and stretches her arms feeling for the door.

I try to guide her, but she brushes me off. Always.

She does not stop singing.

She reaches the door and opens it. Light floods her little room; the one I shared with her, as I bathed her, and cleaned her, and fed her. I did everything for her, except this one ritual of her singing, and getting up, and djusting her wrapper, and heading for the door.

As she reaches the centre of her compound. The rain starts to pour, like it has poured every time she stood there for the past three years. Every time it pours, she stops singing, and she stands still.

Watching her old and frail body stand firm in the biting of the million drops of cold rain is always a wonder. I fear for her, but what good is fear for one who does not fear for herself?

The rain stops and she starts to shiver. I go and cover her in a blanket as I lead her back into her room.

“Did you hear him,” she asks, “did you hear the things he said?”

She’s the only one who ever hears him. I wish I could hear him too.

That day, when he bled out in the rain, in her arms, and my seven-year-old self stood beside her, she sang to him that song she always sings. I was there, just like she was but why does he speak to her and not speak to me?

Fuad Lawalis a poet and copy writer. He blogs at rebelliousflash300.wordpress.com. Follow him on Instagram/Twitter @fuadxiv

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