Diamonds

Rain falling outside a window made of glass,

sparkling drops cascading down the pane

and she rests her head against the window

staring out into the night, eyes half closed

as she ponders her place in this life.

Her tears are like the rain, splashing heavily

against the panel of glass in it's frame

and her heart holds it all together, whispering

silently into the night tide so that as they fall

they seem to wash away with every breath she takes.

There is no time now for sitting in the darkness

with a book in her lap, staring out at the rain

painting narrow rivers onto the glass as she waits

for a moment when freedom might creep up behind her

and grip her in a silent pang of fear for loss.

So her tears are long and buried beneath so many

mutations of everything she thought she would

have one day to speak for herself, choking on

her silent prayers as the tears run in quiet

longing down the sweet pink cheeks of her youth.

There is a sound behind her, candle light flickers

but she doesn't turn her head. This is all seen

through her mind's eye, and heard through her inner ear.

The tears continue to course down her cheeks

and she shudders, her mind drawing her deeper inwards.

These are her tears, a gift to the universe

and to the divine which inspires her just as the book

which sits in her lap gives her meaning, words

written down on a page by her own hands, each

singley a word, and yet more, as she is a woman but more.

What are her tears, but crystalized submission,

running like small diamonds down the soft skin

and caressing her silent agony, stroking it and stoking it

pulling her into her time and making her step back

to see it all as it really is, as it once was, and will be?

He owns not her body nor her mind, not each thing she is

but he owns her sould nad her heart, posessing them

like the small diamonds which make their way down

her cheeks, leaving rivers against the pink skin;

for these are precious, as she is precious, and she is his.

A moment of silence and then a hand on her neck, smoothing

and caressing, announcing his presence. She doesn't turn

her head, for it cannot be real, even as he bends his lips

to whisper in her ear as he brushes away a small crystal

from her shining cheek. "You are mine. Your tears are mine."

Outside, the rain continues to spatter against the glass

leaving it's tiny rivers of moisture running in succession

towards the frame. Within, she is held within his embrace

a woman enslaved to the master of her heart, every beat

for him. And her submissive tears are precious diamonds to him.

Copyright © Storm 2003