The Rain

I remember how it felt to be in your arms that once.

Like you were strong and I was your baby girl.

Like you were everything and I didn’t have to be

anything but yours.

Not even mine.

I remember how it rained that day.

Hard. Like the sky was pelting words at us from too high up.

And you rocked me

gently

like you had always dreamed of doing.

From the moment you knew me,

you dreamed.

And I remember the unsettling feeling that came with the next moment.

I remember hearing my own screams grow in strength

before you knew that anything was wrong.

Before you knew you were

going

to

die.

And I can still feel the force of your cry

as the wind ripped me from your arms

and the place where I fell

still hurts.

The rain stopped then, but you were already gone.

And I was the last little bit of you that was left.

Your child.

Face down on the street.

Waiting for you to come back for me.

I called to you once,

begging you to come down again,

and you called to me telling me to come up.

And I tried. I tried so hard.

But I fell.

And I clearly remember how no one was there to pick me up again.

To cradle me like you did. That once.

To hold me as their child and sing to me as I cried.

So I stopped trying to move . Stopped trying to cry. Just layed there.

Waiting for the rain to start again.

by Quella

Grade 7

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