Crying the Silver Rain

Crying the Silver Rain

“Water, is taught by thirst”   –Emily Dickinson

Life is cold beneath this gray-soaked sky.
Hold still, my heart! The flood runs deep,
Waits for the clouds—
The clouds wait for the rain.

Shed the burdens of your weary soul—
A fresh hope calls to your grief
To cross the torrent of your pain
Crying the silver rain.

Steal away under nightfall through wet secrets.
Darkness will not consume you
Unless you sob past morning
And glom onto tales of endless woe.

Let the sorrow bloom like lilacs in spring—
The storm beats upon the glass.
The glass reflects the rushing drops
Before the cold, silver rain.

You are a shell of echoes lost.
You crave renewal in touching hands;
Yet your tears spill their song
As they cry the silver rain.

They will hear in every drenched line
Whatever note you choose to play.
Perhaps the pulse of grief will beat
The wind and the rain will sway

Or you will drift on water’s vision
That blurs the brink of your mind
That stains the silence
As it mourns the heft of heartache.