I'm wandering, as I'm thinking
I'm thinking maybe some things are two sided
I wonder as I wander what the consequences would be
If my heart would release all the damage
I've been holding back
I think that maybe the damage has been done
I think that maybe my wanderings have left a part of me
It has been twisted and gnarled by the wayside
I think maybe as I wander I should pick my self up
I think I should with hold the damage
I think though, not in my heart
I will make a new vessel, a coffin, a resting place
I will still all the damage, forever in a grave
I will bring it flowers to remind me it was there
I will not let it speak, instead...
I will find a new voice, blowing on the wind
It will heal, it will nurture, and I will rest
I will be safe, not left to wander, but to sleep in a place with angels
Monday, August 31, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Summer Thunderstorm
We've had a thunderstorm here for everyday, except Monday and Tuesday, for the past three weeks. I love summer thunderstorms, and I was thinking about this, and I was inspired to write the following:
Summer thunderstorms...the humidity lays heavy in the air. I can see the lightning flashing in the distance, the thunder rumbles a low warning as the dark cloud edges forward. "I'm coming to see you," says the storm. The cicadas are singing, and the smell of the little white flowers by my balcony fills my senses with an excited delight. I feel the breeze picking up, carrying more of natures warnings. "I'm feeling alive!" Exclaims the storm. There is another flash, a rumble, closer now. A stray raindrop falls to my arm, and the cicadas are drowned out by the twittering of the birds atop the roof, and the call of the seagulls circling above. That damp smell of rain disperses into the air that is already weighted down with moisture. The heat seems to lessen as the sky grows darker blotting out the sun, and then she greets me, with a roar of excitement. The storm is here. I go inside, and watch her from the safety of my home, and her rhythmic humming of rain and wind lull me into a blissful sleep. This is how we interact, me and the storm.
Summer thunderstorms...the humidity lays heavy in the air. I can see the lightning flashing in the distance, the thunder rumbles a low warning as the dark cloud edges forward. "I'm coming to see you," says the storm. The cicadas are singing, and the smell of the little white flowers by my balcony fills my senses with an excited delight. I feel the breeze picking up, carrying more of natures warnings. "I'm feeling alive!" Exclaims the storm. There is another flash, a rumble, closer now. A stray raindrop falls to my arm, and the cicadas are drowned out by the twittering of the birds atop the roof, and the call of the seagulls circling above. That damp smell of rain disperses into the air that is already weighted down with moisture. The heat seems to lessen as the sky grows darker blotting out the sun, and then she greets me, with a roar of excitement. The storm is here. I go inside, and watch her from the safety of my home, and her rhythmic humming of rain and wind lull me into a blissful sleep. This is how we interact, me and the storm.
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