Monotonous Melodies

The clouds stop momentarily here

before they abort their rain, 

down on the valley, down on the houses 

tapping the tin roofs with clanks 

when it rains, it rains outdoors

but here the clouds stop momentarily 

to watch what their brats do when they land

land on my hair, right where it is parted in the morning 

two braids, one eastern one western 

before school. In the midst of my hair, a drop takes shape

I wipe it and walk to the corner of my room.

Here, the clouds stop momentarily, 

mother asks where the last bucket goes

the sound of heaven's music dances on our roof

the tin roof of water and dad's dreams, 

or our reality. I have lived these walls for years

I have heard the sky's melody each time the clouds decided 

to pay us a visit. Like violins, somber, salty 

the sky plays on, adds drums at night for a complete orchestra

adds pipes for rhythms. Adds hunger upon hunger 

for my brother's holed stomach

but only adds water in plentiful,

unworthy. 

The clouds stop momentarily here 

to abort the remains of their failed carriage 

the clouds stop momentarily here and I can speak loud and clear

I turn to my mother, a bucket in her hand

the red bucket adds to the melody of the skies

aren't you sick of this music? 

aren't these monotonous melodies?