The Rain
You may often hear stories about the sun greeting the day,
but what about the sky weeping, washing the light away?
You look around, and somehow,
darkness is all you know.
Even the path beneath your feet feels like betrayal,
slippery enough to make you fall.
And the air feels more piercing,
cold enough to cut through your skin.
But what if the rain is actually saying,
"It is safe for you to be crying."
The rain makes space for me to feel,
the feeling behind the shield.
A quiet moment when I stop pretending,
letting go becomes less frightening.
Hopes return as the morning sun comes,
painting the sky with light and warmth:
"The destiny you've been waiting for
will soon be knocking on your door."
If I must walk under the weeping,
I don't mind, perhaps that’s how I heal.
Yanma Hidayah
Mon 28th Jul 2025 08:42
It’s such a profound thought, @Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh. A few days ago, I read a verse in the Qur’an that carries a meaning very similar to what you’ve expressed. It says:
"And it is He who sends the winds as good tidings before His mercy until, when they have carried heavy rainclouds, We drive them to a dead land and We send down rain therein and bring forth thereby [some] of all the fruits. Thus will We bring forth the dead; perhaps you may be reminded." (Al-A'raf: 57)
It reminded me how deeply nature and healing are intertwined—through rain, life returns to what once seemed barren.
And I’m not sure how it is in your part of the world, but here, I often notice that when someone cries especially a child, people tend to say, "don’t cry." And I feel that over time, those words make them grow up feeling ashamed of their tears.
I prefer to say, “It’s okay to cry.” Because to me, crying is a way of releasing something we carry inside. And for men too, tears are not a sign of weakness (at least for me). Instead, I see it as a strength—a quiet kind of strength. There’s something profoundly human in allowing ourselves to feel.
Thank you again for your heartfelt words, Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh 💖