Sarah Dohan

A drop of water brushes my cheek.

It rolls down my face

Onto my neck,

Where its journey is impeded,

Blocked by the collar of my shirt,

Prevented from ever finishing

Its journey to the ground.

Other drops follow.

First they come slowly,

Then more rapidly,

Until one cannot be

Distinguished from another. 

Soon I am standing, soaked.

I try to run away,

From this dismal place.

Yet I am on an endless ocean,

An ocean of pavement,

Far from home,

Far from safety. 

I panic.

I need to get out of here,

Now.

Suddenly,

A calm comes over me.

I breathe,

I relax.

The heavy drops turn

To liquid pearls

As they caress my cheeks,

And traverse my shirt,

Brushing away the dirt,

The product of fear,

That has rested there so long.