Somewhere between an invitation and a warning: a poem

 

 

 

 

Today I bring tidings of great

Peril,

Relief,

 

With words I pour into sentences flowing unlimited on endless journeys

Like a lake feeding into rivers stretching across lands

North, South, East, West,

All by my own hands.  

I was erased

By my own self.

My anger muted me, spit ricocheted out my mouth.

Spurned. 

My sadness blinded me, my torso flailing on the ground. 

Pitied. 

My fear deafened me, my head spinning from all the ringing. 

Blamed. 

When my innocence was stripped away from my soul

I burned a fire for nineteen years.

I foolishly waited for someone to put out the peril that raged around me,

Covered by smoke, stagnant in its fumes.

Until I heard a thundercloud belt out a note of jubilation

Releasing healing from its sky, pattering onto my skin with an exhale 

Dissipating the smoke, the rage and 

Allowing me to inhale after such a long time.

A mist envelopes me into a hug,

I sway and twirl with the droplets in kind. 

Through its veil 

I see open relief welcome me yonder,

It’s waves wetting my feet as I stand before it. 

Tears walking on my waterline fall onto my cheeks, 

I cradle my anger, my sadness, my fear and submerge myself beneath the ripples.

Released.

I rise from the water with speech, sight, and sound.

I herald a storm -

The clouds will be my palette for

The rain to bleed color of infinite shades - 

The lighting will flash every feeling born of me -

The thunder will mercifully release my inner cries -

The wind will spread my words unyieldingly. 

And I will stand in the eye of the storm seeing the tidings

Of great joy.

Here is your invitation to my warning.