The Blind Girl

After the arguments,
after the rainstorm,
the recognition that we were finished,
heading in different directions, we climbed
to the rooftop of our hotel in Tegucigalpa
to see the double rainbow.
It was a good place to cry
and say farewell.

Traveling across Central America had been excruciating.
Walking past armed guards with bandolero bullet belts
strapped across their chests,
negotiating sidewalks where the earthquake
had upended streets.
Civil wars were in the ether, violence still to come.
There was scarcely a country secure enough to travel through,
the water not safe to drink.
We got drunk on bottled beer.

I’d never seen a double rainbow
and took it as a sign.
At a crossroads in my life,
I could push away darkness,
venture forward solo,
be blinded by beauty.