These things we hate

I get uneasy every time rain falls.
The sound it makes on the roof
Makes me feel like it is the Holocaust again
Or something worst.
Rain is one thing I can never understand,
And misunderstanding slowly grows into hate.
The farmer waits for it to fall,
When it falls, the farmer is happy.
Then the crops are almost ready for harvest
And the rain falls again, ceaselessly,
Washing away everything it had birthed.
I slowly hate what I do not understand

Younglan Louis