The pitter-patter of raindrops on the window are starting to hammer against the glass. I finish up the whispering of prayers under my breath and hide my rosary in my pocket. The clouds are starting to gather above us, and we must get ready to wait.
After all, the most we can do in these dire times is to wait for the storm to pass.
The water level starts to rise, and the faucet water is no more. The winds start to pick up, and heaven sends its heavy droplets down to Earth. The electricity cuts off, and so our only source of power is willpower.
Yet in contrast to the strengthening storm, and just like the roof panels threatening to fly away, our spirits still tremble and waver.
I cannot see the ground. The dirty water makes it hard to spot the floor supposedly seen from the second floor balcony.
I cannot see the sky. Dark grey clouds enshroud the vivid blue sky of the world above.
I cannot see the sun. No ray of light could shine for the world whose actions destroyed itself.
The sun shines to make it grow green under our feet.
And we pour cement and asphalt all over where the green should be seen.
The sun shines to bring light to the world.
And us humans complain of its heat and glare.
The sun shines.
And us humans insult its light.
I look up, the light drizzle ticking my nose, trying to make me giggle as if it didn’t come from a stronger force that removed our home’s windows. Road barriers have been rebuilt, the river is slowly getting clearer again, and the houses have been drained of its floodwater. New deliveries of materials to fix these missing windows will arrive soon enough.
See? Waiting for the storm to pass will eventually bring its light. The clouds will eventually part for us to see the sunlight again.
To wait for a disaster to end is to also wait for the next one to start.
The clouds unveiled nothing and joined to make the drizzle a storm yet again
