Where the Ghost of Yesterday

An oppressive

Gathering envelope

Of grey clouds

Heave overhead,

The sun eclipsed

By a weight of water

Afloat in mid-air.

The fall will be dramatic

It always is.

Suicidal raindrops

Rarely deflect from purpose

And disperse

After the first impact

Shatters their resolve

To remain intact,

Tension dissolves

In rebound.

But there is pause,

Respite

From the squall,

The wind is the only

Thing to fall.

The loudest noise

Is between the ears

The rush of blood

The echo of silence

The whisper

Never quite heard.

The crushing vacuum

Of an airless thought

Sliding into

The back of beyond.

Where the ghost

Of yesterday threatens

The birth of tomorrow .

Haunting the hope of a day

Rinsed clean of

Unshared words,

Salted tears

Bloodied skies,

The consumptive

Suffocation and labour

Of sorrowed breathing.