The weather seemed in sympathy that day
with his despair: abysmal dismal guy.
But that was mere coincidence – the way
he staggered out, tear-blinded as the sky
shellacked his pain with rainfall. Inside out
ran water, but that wasn’t really it;
the weather didn’t join his anguished shout.
Instead he found the storm appropriate
for loosing his confusion and his pain.
The downpour hid his tears, and he could wail
his agony beneath the thrum of rain,
and stumble under darkness. Rant or flail,
that storm did not so much reflect as stir
his grief and anger once – then let it blur.