Shower Show

Poetry by Maria Etre
Photo by Gary Ellis

I watched a drop fall
on my glass shower walls
The steam filled the room
with a misty silence
It was a Thursday

My legs, tired
My heart too…
I sat on the floor
with a raining shower
trying it’s best to wake me
but warm enough for comfort …

I lay my head on the wall
The repetitive pitter patter
massaged my skin …
It was very quiet
7 am kind of quiet
It almost felt like heavy rain
a feeling now, that’s foreign
in the desert…

I looked at my shower glass 
droplets hung there
like little reflective mirrors
of different shapes and sizes..
My mind seized.. and it was ok ..

until I noticed one tiny droplet
maneuver the others...
it was falling… better yet..
maybe it was making its way
directing itself…
purposefully 

Where to? I wondered…
The mist got thicker…
My legs still weak…
but that droplet was persistent
it fell… glided
it slid between others…

It reminded me of when
I used to trace raindrops on our car’s window
during a Sunday rainy drive to my grandma’s.

Then suddenly, I realized
I was in the shower again..
looking at that little
rebellious drop

Sometimes, it would cling onto others
grow heavy… and just
in a split of a second
crash

Other times
it would just stick
settle and gather other
friends…
maybe to evaporate
maybe to hang in there…
a little bit longer
before
another droplet
joins in
to dictate its
direction

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