old river beds

old river beds

the rain that started coming down was icy
drops that stabbed like little blades
a walk that already was uneasy
in the absence of any showing light
walking old beds where rivers used to run
the banks were made of sharpened rocks
treacherous to climb on
driven rain that made you stumble
a coldness
a coldness that made it kinder
to find a way to sleep
and let the old beds fill with water
and carry you someplace there may be light
or at least a warmer darkness.