After the rain

His face white as chalk,

in the rubble

after the quake,

his black eyelashes

and bright red lips

as ready for nō

The debris blanketing 

his body, his chin

tucked in, he is asleep

if not at least 

taking some rest

after his ordeal 

A sudden grey cloud,

a frowned eyebrow

over his eyes,

sunshowers

drops of rain

splashdot his face

draw a constellation

– inverted black stars

on a pale white night –

His face serene somehow

accepting of

the pain and the rain

– not even a scowl –

in the lambent air

as if prismed with mirrors 

the skies aclear again

he slumbers on

He might wake up

– any minute now –

wipe the dust off his face

shirk the rubble off, smile

and start changing the world.