Kerma

You are working on a field with a burning sun against your back. Picking out pebbles out of red sand, tired. Some kids are trying to annoy you by throwing stones on the field. You try to keep calm but it starts to rain. You try to stop the pouring but it’s impossible to do so. You kneel down by the weight of all your miseries; and turn to face the grey sky who is crying along with your heart.

It appears as if tears are rolling down your face but now it feels lighter. To just keep the problems aside; to just gaze the clouds, the lightning and water dropping down from heavens.

The grey clouds disappear and there rises hope.