A Day of Floods

A flooded day, an unprecedented night,
Heavy hours, with tears pouring down.

“What’s happening to you?”
It has been flooding for five long hours.

“It’s good! it’s raining.”
Yes… once upon a time, it was raining.

Now, it floods.
Deep inside, I know willingly
that rain and flood are blessings,
but my mind, my whole being, still insists
on welcoming winter with a cup of coffee,
a novel, and a warm bed under heavy blankets,
wrapped in comfort, longing, and tranquility.

My mind once knew nothing of fear
for children, for others, and for beloved ones.
I used to wait eagerly to film the rain,
to document a historical moment,
to face the downpour with living, innocent, grateful eyes.

Gratitude remains, whatever the circumstance,
but the longing in my eyes
has turned into a flood of tears.

“The flood outside has settled within you,” they say.
“So easily. What is wrong with you?”
Easily?
What does “easy” mean?

Rain is now a guest—no longer a friend.
It is a memory.
Once beautiful.
Now heavy with longing.

Now it feels like swept-up water,
closing your ears at the first knock of a drop,
sending your memories away,
fleeing from accumulated moments
that once beautified everything around you.

Gratitude has never set me free,
yet,
I am not faithless—never.
I am only longing.
Only tired of the nostalgia
that carried me inside,
before it ever touched the outside.

A Day of Floods by Marwa Moataz Al hallaq

Image courtesy of Taqwa Ahmed Alwawi

9 May 2026