In the rain 

The torrential rain continues to make the sea rise,
My body lying on the beach stirs up the winter,
The wounds are left open;
A cold breeze envelops my inert body,
Despite the rain and the cold, my heart is in flames.

Illustration/photography/Anita Bacha 



 I was passing by,
One morning,
 A little flower in a furrow
 I saw, peeping at me;
Soft lavender color,
Tender and fragile,
 Flaunting four tiny petals,
A miniscule golden ball,
Her belly button;
Mesmerized, I watched,
I wanted to touch her,
With my moistened lips,
Caress her glossy folds;
I cried out and hurried my steps;
Following sunrise,
The furrow was barren,
My eyes wept for her;
In a puddle,
Pale, on her tummy,
 Lifeless and floppy,
The little flower
Floated in rain water;
 Queen for a day, memorable forever,
She won the heart of a joker.

Anita Bacha



Under the showering rain,
Shaken by the swells of the gale,
A sweet, pastel pink begonia,
A petite, elusive begonia,
Beckons my heart in pain;
A flood of love carries me away,
Drifting me tenderly at bay.


Two drops run down her cheeks;

In the space of one breath,

I caught the pearls,

Roll them between my thumb

and index finger,

Smell them,

Guess their taste of honey melon,

“Why do they taste so sweet?”

“Don’t Know!”she replied peevishly.

“Your eyes are so beautiful.”

“I know “she said, wiping her tears.

“What’s the colour of your eyes?”looking deep inside.

“Saxon green!”

“Yes, indeed

and I see the brilliance of the sun.”

“There are clouds too”she said

IMG_7469.JPG “Clouds make the rain,

then fall as tears!”

Anita Bacha 




God’s Grace, like rain water, falls on all recipients equally

The flower-pot, the empty tin, the reservoir, the gutter

Do not blame God if our pot is upside down

When Grace is pouring

Anita Bacha