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Finally
She sat crosslegged on the cold bank
Breaking the twig into small pieces
And throwing them into the raging river-
One bit at a time.
The wind raked through her unbound hair,
Flinging it around her head and face.
She did not push it aside-
Paid no attention at all-
Just stared at the twig in her hands
And kept tossing the bits in the river.
Finally she stopped
And threw the mutilated stick away,
Staring after it.
She wrapped her arms around her waist
And uttered a harsh laugh.
The blank look remained in her eyes-
Dull, empty eyes
But that night
She cried.
Finally.
