–A reply to Ian Salvaña’s Ekphrasis
The dry earth has been covered with thick layers of dust. The sun shines its might during the noon and heat waves may sometimes be seen. Cabs and cars and jeeps have clogged the roads as passengers squeeze themselves in. Everyone’s in a hurry to escape the hotness of the day. The skin aches with the smallest exposure to the sun. Nights are warm and humid. Every persons’ lip seems to long for drops of cold water as their glands release sweat more than the usual. The world has turned too fast, as it accelerates, we become too heated, too warm. Almost at the boiling point. Almost…
We have prayed for rain. For too long, we have missed it. We have missed the sound of its crashing on our rooves. Petrichor when the droplets touch the soil. The showers on the eaves. The gloomy clouds and the cold breeze. Or maybe, we have missed the arms that wrapped us every time the rain comes. The nostalgia we feel as little droplets peek on our window pane.
Too many nights and days, the dry and warm wind and heat has made us all long for soothing. We longed for rain like we miss the soothing tears that freely gushed from our eyes when we were little kids who cry because we did not get enough sleep in the afternoon.
And one night, on the city’s busy routine, people going home from work, vendors selling their goods at Roxas, some buying their dinner, and passersby flock the streets, small droplets were felt. Maybe someone realized it first when he felt the droplet on his forehead, and then another when she felt it on her hand and until the droplets were visible on the windshields of vehicles. Until they have made cracking sounds on the rooves. Until they started to make little puddles of water. Until they were no longer droplets but water gushing from cumulus-nimbus clouds above our heads.
The earth has now received the blessing -the water that filled up the cracks, the crevices, the holes in the ground. The dust that has thickened on the roadside of Cabantian will be washed out.
But it’s different.
We don’t remember the same rain falling for a very long time. Maybe long ago, the rain fell softly unable to create a sound as it hits the earth. Maybe it fell gently as we stood under one umbrella. Maybe it fell gently when we kissed under it. Maybe the rain has changed since it fell a very long time ago when the earth was young and unaware of the world that it is now.
The rain has changed after a long time, or maybe we have.
— We have.