hard, loud, early morning rain outside my open window
a long, crashing rumble of thunder;
be warm and dry and safe out there, dear child
and you, you heart-broken one,
frightened by the intensity of the grief,
the endless dark tunnel,
try to remember you will emerge
to see the sun again
and learn to live in the space between dark and light
the blue skies of childhood may not return
but blue skies will
the bounce in your hamstrings may sleep a long night
but what returns will be enough
the body remembers
it remembers both the joy and the horror
and it doesn’t know the difference
between the quiet imagined story
and the louder, more apparently real one;
it will respond to both
so tell yourself a story
and remember the hot summer sun,
being mesmerized by the iridescence of the dragonfly
poised and elegant, she hovers,
forward and backward,
upward and downward,
side to side
hovering, she sees past illusions
to the depths
It’s been awhile…well worth the wait
Thanks, Sherry!
I guess it’s a choice, isn’t it? –and stories help.
Or the ability to use the imagination to bring some hope as we wait out the darkness?
Beautifully written words…truth.
Thanks Kathi.
Lovely!
thanks, Steve 🙂
Ela é realmente um fenomeno: nunca mobilizou UMA unica pessoa em Cuba, nunca conseguiu UM unico seguidor em Cuba, sua recivanlea lá é ZERO.
I think you're a really talented blogger your blog is so pretty and every single post I've seen is so beautifully done.(& I would love you to check my blog dear :))XO,Lucija
What beautiful, powerful imagery !
Yes – hovering is an art and it works somehow to open the perception of the heart to break thru illusions into the depth of truth -and yet, I pray with all my heart you may burst in a new surge of flight. You are so very loved.
Thanks, Veronica, so kind. That’s the hope for myself, and for the others I had in my mind when this came to me. 🙂