Long after the storm had died br the river lived br in drips and gushes br like tears br like beads of glass br bleeding down gorges br of sorrow on her face br br The night had been too long br the windows broken by the breeze br the sky like heavy brows br over angry eyes br the lightning in the distance br an unsheathed dagger br in a lonely alley at night br br You told me to meet you here br after the storm had passed br after the thunder in your chest br had stopped br after the falling rain br had blessed br this ground br br But through each painful tear br the lightning appears br and that night returns br to catch each rolling drop br each tiny fear br each possibility br at your naked feet br br I waited and waited till the storm had stopped br but the river flowed br and the beads I saw br were no longer tears br but balls of bitter glass br unbroken, unborn br unable to live and, therefore, to diebr br Wesley Gibbingsbr br