The rain she’d not have felt
if wind hadn’t awoken skin to touch –
sensation closed off from dermis
long-used to emptiness of caress –
pale flesh goose-pimpled at the cold
recollection of his departure.
She shivers, teeth clamped shut against
thought of him, ‘gainst the adverse
weather wrapping her in her own mood,
and she strides on, head down, shoulders tense –
muscles knotted, no strong fingers to knead away
her worries and her cares; stress dresses itself
over her whole body – she strides on,
but eyes don’t catch the jagged edge
of waiting stone to send her flying
to her knees, forced into supplication
yet again. A pause; trembling hands.
Mud seeps through her clothes
and her tears join the rain.
Wind dies away, soft
exhale of her sobs