She breathed the thick air, shaking pools

forming in her eyes. Her lashes met, and the pool dripped.

Enveloped in loneliness, she waited, her mind muddled and unclear.

She knew what she wanted, knew it especially when the pounding

on her door ceased, the questioning stopped, and she sat and watched the rain

falling, careening to the ground in a violent waterfall.



She closed her eyes, rose to her feet, stood: a waterfall

of sadness and tears wrapped her, gathering at her feet in a pool.

She tiptoed through the empty house to reach the rain

outside. The nighttime was shrouded in mist, a dripping

chill surrounding the house. She felt the steady pounding

of her heart in her chest, and nothing anymore was clear.



Guilt: haunting, piercing guilt, never completely clear,

invaded her dreams and bombarded her in a waterfall

of endless frustration. She could still recall the pounding

footsteps, rushing upward and away from her as her pool

of hopelessness closed in around her, only beginning to drip

away when he ran past them, drenched in sorrowful rain.



Where, now, was she to go, where could she turn in this unyielding rain?

No one, no one could explain, no one could make clear

just what her own helplessness had done to their friend. Her reserve dripped

away, her confusion unleashing her tears at last, a waterfall

to rival the misty, tiresome rain uselessly pooled

at her feet. She could only succumb to the pounding.



Why did she have to have an explanation? The pounding

of her thoughts, the demand of their conscience, the rain

of self-criticism, which wouldn’t do anything but pool

in her senses? It was all becoming clearer,

if only little by little. It hit her in a waterfall,

in a tide of realization, her unsure feelings a mere drip.



The past, she knew, is no more than a steady drip,

falling continuously, losing itself to the pounding

of the wave of the endless spray of the waterfall

that is life. As the past falls away from us like rain,

the reasons we have for regret are no longer clear.

We must move on, not dwell on our helplessness, lest it pool.



She watched the rain as it pooled

around her, her waterfall of sadness slowing to a gentle drip

of acceptance, as her past became clear and so eased her soul’s pounding.