[Image from Pinterest]
[Inspired by Ólafur Arnalds’ “Raddir, ft. South Iceland Chamber Choir”:]
Soul tears, raindrops
from a storm internal. Hands out,
palms up in supplication to this pain,
she catches them, one by one.
Single question, Why?,
floods her eyes still further.
To sky she looks next, gaze
shifted to the cracked ceiling, heavens
beyond perhaps; or maybe
not, given the current situation.
How? her next thought, as she looks
to where she’s sitting, fallen
to floor the minute she heard
the news – the terrible truth
of his news. Lips
tremble against her will, imagining
his lips, his mouth forming words so
final, but she squeezes her eyes tightly
shut: no more tears, no more
woe now. Move, she tells herself. Get up
and go now. Body ignores her, bones
sinking heavier into the hard wooden floor.
Raindrops of pain pool in her palms,
stagnate as she stares at nothing but
grain of the boards, feels nothing but
a remnant emptiness.
What she would give for one last kiss…
[Copyright © N R Nolan 2016]