Image by 955169 from Pixabay

My grandpa first discovered the shower by mistake

On his solo journey to Canada

He found himself in a hotel room

A layover in Hong Kong

He sat in the bath, scrubbing away the village scorn

When he reached for the knob and held it

Ever so gently, ever so long

As if unsure this was a past he wanted to move on from

The water rained down on him

And then poured as he pushed the tap to its limit

He allowed himself a little smile,

The smile allowed him to stand

Bumping his head with the shower’s

But that rush only made the rhythm flow more lyrically

Soon he was dancing

Kicking water up over the edge

To be cleaned later he thought,

Because his mother was no longer outside, yelling

“Sadhu, hurry up.”