The After-Sky
by Andrew Martin PankratzThey say there's a rainbow after every storm,
But it rained last night,
And the after-sky was thus forlorn:
Amid the silent blue crept only vapid white
Below, among the sorrowed browns,
In a sea of bladed green,
Drowning towers bled their crimson crowns:
And still, above, no rainbow could be seen. . .
Where is the promised rainbow?
Where are the rays of red,
And the bluish stare?
I see
No violet to warm the air
No gold in my heart of lead
Where is the promised rainbow?
The weeping willow has never wept as this;
Tears of chartreuse-green yet burst
From mauve and gnarled cysts
They mourn the uncolored sky and curse
For, there is no arc to shine ‘pon its bough
No brilliant colors to sing,
To break the bleakness ‘bove its brow
No palette of hope could such this heartache bring
Where is the promised rainbow?
Where are the rays of red,
And the bluish stare?
I see
No violet to warm the air
No gold in my heart of lead
Where is the promised rainbow?
***
It rained, and I bled...not blood, but sorrow. I cried, and I bled...not blood, but fear. I feared, and I bled...not blood, but foreshadow.
I could not see an end to bleeding save for bleeding that which I had not bled. I asked for hope...they drew a rainbow, and they did not bleed.
I walked the rain-flooded fields, and I bled. I asked for more hope...they drew a brighter rainbow, and they did not bleed.
I crawled the rain-slicked fields, and I bled. I gave them my muddened clothes...they shook off mud, and they did not bleed. I asked for further hope...they drew an even brighter rainbow, and they did not bleed.
I sat in drowning rain, and I bled. I did not ask for hope...they did not bleed. I slept, and I bled. They laid upon my breast a drawing of a rainbow, and they did not bleed.
I cried, and I bled...not blood, but anger. I could not see the rainbow they drew. I asked where...they frowned, and they did not bleed.
I walked away, and I bled. They called my name, and they did not bleed. I asked where...they frowned, and they did not bleed.
I crawled further, and I bled. They called my name, and they did not bleed. I asked where...they frowned, and they did not bleed.
I sat alone, and I bled. They called my name, and they did not bleed. I did not ask where...they did not bleed. I slept, and I bled. They laid upon my breast a drawing of a rainbow, and they did not bleed.
I feared, and I bled...not blood, but soon. I could see neither the end nor its rainbow. I could not hear them...they gave me a picture of a rainbow, and they did not bleed.
I walked alone...I saw a rose, and I did not bleed. The rose was wet...and bright...and deeply crimson, and it did not bleed.
I walked further...I saw a calla lily, and I did not bleed. The lily was wet...and bright...and deeply white, and it did not bleed.
I walked further still...I saw a fern, and I did not bleed. The fern was wet...and bright...and deeply green, and it did not bleed.
I stood, and I did not bleed. I looked, and I did not bleed. I wept, and I did not bleed. I saw the rainbow before me born, and I did not bleed...and, living, it did not bleed.
***
Where is the promised rainbow
But below
No bent rays in teary skies
But life
Wherefrom life is grown
