The Black Rainstorm Poem by Birgit Bunzel Linder

The sky suddenly wreaks havoc upon us,
pours down clear from blackened clouds,
flooding the heart’s lingering drought.

The outside torrents rap the bus window,
matching my wild heart beating your name.
I take a volume of Darwish out to read.

The golden street lights after dusk
flashlight the window one by one,
crystal glow worms inch down my page.

Perhaps the couple seeking shelter has
a love small and poor, made wet by passing rain;
or one so strong and rich, it expands the sky.

Now the heavens are grey and blue and orange,
Like cedar forests burning in the distance,
devised by a brilliant craftsman.

Black scraps of cloud criss-cross the sky
like skinny wolves charging at the milky moon,
suddenly stabbed by a sharp lightning sword.

I wade home through water and mud,
past brand new cascades dashing down.
Water always binds me to your name.

I walk behind a singing soul diffusing
into darkened mystery. A world unfolds
like none before. But Darwish whispers calmly:

A simple black rain storm,
no more and no less.