Droplet Self

A droplet born one day inside a cloud,
began its fall to Earth and was afraid
of freezing into snow that would be plowed
and wished that in the cloud it could have stayed.
While wind tossed it all through its long descent,
it feared its death on land or sea below,
and most of its brief falling time was spent
in horror of a fate it didn’t know.
I’ve been like this—a droplet awfully scared,
since from a heaven I felt I was falling,
hoping that I somehow would be spared
my future fate—apparently appalling.
But falling in love while falling, I don’t hate:
I’ll join the sea, or might evaporate.


Mario A. Pita

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2 Responses to Droplet Self

  1. Oh my, Mario, my most recent poem is such an echo of this. It is the hardest thing to break away from heaven for an instant, a lifetime, and go to be shattered here on earth. But there is love to discover, so…

    • Amaya, though we live in different states (I in Massachusetts where the droplet selves will be freezing into sleet for hours today), we have evidently been in neighboring or the same states of being, of shattering followed by wonder, and your poem is a wonderful rendering that I am happy to have synchronistically echoed!

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