The whoosh of the engines muffle my world.
Gravity pulls me down; cradling me gently like a protective parent.
Outside, blazing ribbons of gold propel me into the night sky.
Blackness engulfs me as I hurtle through space.
I am alone with myself.
My time is coming…of this much, I’m sure.
Don’t know what that means just yet but right now, in this moment, I feel as though I am a link between my past and future selves.
Inside me, cogs that had long-ago wound to a stop are beginning to turn again. With strong and steady beats my pulse gains momentum. Click, click, click… The tarnish of past indiscretions and scratches that caused pain are fading so I may see my reflection clearly; without obstruction.
My timepiece is rusty, a very true fact;
But I am prepared for my big, second act!
I start out as a tiny ripple on the endless, open sea.
Small and insignificant, I can offer only me.
The tide of time pushes me forward, then drags me back again.
But over the years
I brave my fears
To become my own great tidal wave.
My wave; it swells a hundred feet, crests, and then subsides.
It may change from blue to grey but my wave is always mine.
Stormy weather diverts my path
But I always reconnect.
Gathering my power,
By the hour
My wave, I can perfect.
My tiny ripple has found its way
Rolling ever forward.
It lived its life among the stars,
But home is where it travels.
I’d never felt a part of it, but always on the margin.
Never the exhalted one, just the silent watchman.
The center glowed with white, hot light.
Mine was cool and dark.
But now I’m growing,
Oh, so slowly
To overtake the night.
The storm came on suddenly.
A bank of clouds steamrolling in from the West. Brewing like a witch’s cauldron, it changes from blue to green and blots out the sun.
Electricity slices across the sky and I see layers of clouds spinning counterclockwise above me.
Deafening thunder explodes…around me…through me…inside me.
Its percussion hits then trails off into nothingness, taking my heartbeat with it. As the storm bears down, the wind switches directions and turns cold.
I smell rain.
A depression develops in the clouds, sucking the air from my lungs as it expands outward. The tip of a funnel cloud emerges from its center. Descending then pulling back…choosing where to land…deciding what to destroy.
Another funnel cloud forms and connects with the earth, turning the tornado brown.
It’s coming closer; stealthily crawling across the field.
Cowering in a ravine, I cling to the roots of the trees around me. Their tops twist wildly with the wind and send vibrations down through the trunk to shake me uncontrollably. Branches begin splintering apart and clumps of dirt hit me like bullets as the roots work their way free of the embankment.
My body becomes weightless and lifts into the air. My shoes are sucked from my feet and disappear. I hang on tightly; hugging the only anchor I have.
I’m being tossed about like a rag doll and I feel my bones snapping to pieces.
The tornado’s vacuum is pulling me away to be destroyed just like the trees
… and roots
The flower, in its boldness, refuses to turn its head from the sun. Never fearing the burning rays, the flower slowly follows the blazing orb across the sky, soaking up the heat that infuses vibrancy into its petals.
This delicate gift of nature absorbs the fire that gives life as easily as it destroys. Never wavering until it is ready to concede its own demise. Until that time it boldly challenges the sun with its own beauty.
Coffee, sweet coffee.
You are the breath that stokes my morning embers.
Light me up, baby, I’ve got a busy day!