I always wanted to dance in the rain,
But in Iraq, it was rare, and definitely not mine
to enjoy or dance to its music.
In London, it is plenty,
For everyone to be drawn in its melody…
Today, I can dance in the rain.
I want to have my scarf soaked wet with falling drops
To embrace heaven's tears of joy!
I want to dance in the rain...
but my ankles are chained.
My mother gave me her golden anklets.
She had them from her mother who had them from hers.
It ran from one female to another.
They did not dance in the rain...
They didn't have their scarves soaked wet.
They didn't embrace heaven's joy!
I want to stretch my arms wide,
to embrace all the rain.
I want to feel the chill.
To have my body would shiver with every drop,
Passing through layers of fabric thick.
But they were too heavy.
They kept me too warm...
But there is my face!
Open to the sweet drool
Every drop kissed my revealed skin.
My eyes wide open to heaven and her tears;
No, these are not tears,
They are blessings of freedom,
My scarf has just embraced them all.
I am dancing in the rain…
Nadia F. Mohammed