in the end it will always be the rain

                               picture by @simon

I no longer know who to share this suffocating feeling with. Today, at precisely 06.10 a.m., a short message from my friend appeared on my phone screen. They spoke with overflowing joy that rain had finally fallen upon the soil we stand on this morning. For roughly a whole year, the earth here had been weeping in drought and dust, without ever being greeted by a single drop of water from the heavens.

Instantly, my eyes turned toward the sky as it was slowly dimming and turning gray. The atmosphere outside gradually chilled, and the heavy clouds above began to gather thick shadows. At that very moment, a surging emotion filled my chest, one I could not possibly unravel with words alone. Rain, for those of us who have waited so long, is not merely precipitation falling upon the earth. It is my greatest, loudest, and most silent yearning right now.

And when those first droplets truly fell and touched the soil, bringing forth the long-missed scent of wet earth, my defenses completely dissolved. The overflowing gratitude, the deep touch of a small miracle, the poignant longing, and the sorrow that had resided for so long instantly merged into a single stream of tears I could no longer hold back. I wept softly, joining the gentle drops falling from above.

Yet, the warmth of that gratitude did not last long. Shortly after feeling that peacefulness, my fingers scrolled through the latest news regarding the wildfires in other regions "Karhutla". The sight on my phone screen instantly shattered my heart into shapeless fragments. Vast forests and lands were completely consumed and burned to ashes by the fire. Ruined, charred, until nothing remained except black soot and thick plumes of smoke rising high, entirely blocking the horizon. Not a single trace of green life was left behind, only the scars of destruction leaving a painful void.

We all know how millions of prayers have been offered endlessly for these wildfires. Hopes for safety have crossed oceans, sent from the holiest places in the far reaches of Mecca and Medina, where every hand is raised in sincere plea for protection over a burning earth. Yet seeing the flames that refuse to die down, my chest still aches with profound sorrow.

Do you know what shatters and ruins my feelings the most right now?

It is the bitter reality of those wildfires. On one hand, I cry tears of joy celebrating the raindrops that finally touch the earth where we are after such a long wait. But on the other hand, my chest feels terribly tight with a question that echoes endlessly: Will the rain falling today be enough to extinguish a blaze of that magnitude? Will this cold downpour be able to stop the relentless fire that has already devoured the homes of so many lives and stolen the breath of existence?

My emotions are now tossed between a surging hope and a deep fear. I pray to the universe that this rain is not merely a brief greeting that passes by too soon, but a heavy, lasting embrace that holds the earth long enough to douse every remaining ember, heal the wounded ground, and restore the breath of life that was once taken away.

Amidst this deep emotion, I am reminded of the time I published my book back in 2024, a piece dedicated entirely to capturing stories about the rain. Even now, that sentiment continues to echo passionately within my chest, reaffirming how the rain will always be a place of homecoming that I will forever yearn for. Hopefully so.