I wrote this during a thunderstorm and some wicked weather in NJ. The thing is, I really wrote about me.  Lately my life has been a storm, but I am finally finding the calm…

After midnight, the sounds of the house change. The only thing I hear is coming from outside. The patter of rain against the window and an occasional thunder clap disturbs the silence. I drink it all in, because this is what I love, the calm and the storm, together. The wind is whipping, making the attic fan cover flap. It’s as if someone is knocking to come inside, to get out of the storm, but not me, no, not me.

I want to be out in the rain, letting it soak me, letting it wash away the pain and the sorrow, the tears that join with it, unseen, but felt, like a burning against the cool of the subtle drops. My thirst is quenched, my soul at peace, my being, more understanding, of the power instilled in the heavens, I sigh. A deep and cleansing breath, the air in my lungs escaping into the night, as one with the wind. Thoughts, no longer nagging, weighing me down, are taken and dispelled into the night.

Flashes of light illuminate the darkness in which I stand, drawing me closer, relieving the doubts. I am finally sated, knowing in the darkest night or the harrowing storm, I will always be drawn to the light.

 

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