Raining Blood Poem by Gary Scott Gebert

In my palm I held the world.
With everything it offered,
for what its worth,
my hand clenched tight.
Holding on to our dream,
white knuckled.
Pretending to care what happened,
but desperate to let go,
to sink below the dark watery surface.

An echo of an old lullaby,
forever rings in my head.
Whispering a rhyme with no words.
Familiar tones from mother’s chime,
which was out of order long ago.
Deafening from its twang,
calling my name repeatedly from afar.
Haunting my thoughts of you,
and the past life we shared.

Today it is raining blood.
Making the whole world anemic,
pale to the eye, cold to the touch.
With nothing to wipe up the pool,
left behind to slowly congeal.
Sapped of all vitality,
watching how little by little it withers.
With a maudlin hope I pray aloud,
that you will reappear someday.

In my palm I held the world.
Now I have nothing.