Rising Again and Again — A poem by Nesrin Almosrani

RISING AGAIN AND AGAIN Rain, rain, rain When the whispering rain Reveals something to us It is that we must rise again and again Attentively, we listen to it. We go We go! We will surely rise Drops fall from the sky White rain Warm rain Wondrous rain Long-awaited rain I stand where bombs fell the day before yesterday Where shrapnel rained down yesterday Where no one knows What tomorrow will bring We have fallen hard But we will rise again We go Towards hope Rain, rain, rain Drops fall on my heavy head The rest washes the remains Of my exhausted heart Rain, rain, rain Rain that smells like the scent Of Syrian olive groves Of our vast wheat fields, Dancing with the wind Resembling the flowing, blonde hair Of a girl running Towards an unknown future The rain falls In the land where my father laid his head On a stone of the grave Of his grandparents Shyly he hummed the sacred verse On the land where seeds are now sown In the muddy earth Head held high Eyes wide open The rain defies The broken souls Not afraid of what is to come Not sad about what Has passed I feel with them Tracing my scars From crown to toe I comfort them one by one Rain falls from the sky No bombs No grenades It rains hope Seeds are sown Soon the harvest will come Because we can do nothing else But rise Rain, rain, rain. It rains hope For a miracle