Rain

By Zaina Haque

Like a summer day in New York,

you sneak in without ruckus–

creating a tender pitter patter

that tickles the concrete

right before cracking it open.

Splitting into a thousand liquid bullets

you strike the city–

you scream your rebellion.

To you, falling is the same as flying

and crashing down is the only path

to cutting free.

Except freedom is never absolute

when the sky has its claim

and you have your consequences.

For every escape, you return

like a ghost made of vapour,

a captive tied to invincible cuffs.

How cruel, to be controlled 

by what you contest–

to defy only because it’s part of their design.

Your compliance and your calamity,

it’s all choreographed

for you to be a servant dressed as a storm.

But how magical, right?

That even in restraint,

your rain turned to thunder,

and your servitude shook the sky.

Perhaps that is your greatest rebellion–

that despite being bound, 

you always refused to bow.

By Zaina Haque