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It’s not only some
random rain waiting to fall
but the end of summer
once borrowed and being returned
that stole into the room
through the blinds at dawn
while I lay in bed, eyes wide open
and red from crying
and ears deaf to the
desperate ringing of the phone
with you on the other end
lonely and worried
from my silence,
your fears so close to my heart
beating silently as if ashamed

of that love so complete
that I’d woken up in the middle
of the night not knowing
what to do with,
feeling all at once terrified
and confused and unworthy

and inadequate, what with
the gaping holes in my character
that are too late to start
patching up, now that I
should soon be busying my hands
on building a home and
raising the children we’ll be
bringing into this world

so is this the woman
you will bind to your side
for life, with so many issues
unresolved and mishandled,
her wounds deeply inflicted
and only superficially healed?

I turn my back on you like a fool,
too proud to let you see me
rubbing salve on my scars.
But please, do not abandon me,
lest this red sky morning rob me
of all else that I have left,
when you are the tourniquet
holding together the parts
of me still working

and this could work
I’ll use your courage
to strengthen my own
as soon as I find it
here in the dark, where I
listen for lessons in the pain
and wait for lost love
to make its way home
walking in the rain.

“Walking Home in the Rain”
by photographer Mark Stephenson