You were the river
eroding shorelines
constantly flowing.
I believed
I could stand on the sandbar
in the middle
and you wouldn’t hurt me.
You swept me up
and into the current
proving how helpless
I was all along.
Tag: water
cold but clean
I can feel you here
in the strong gusts of wind
that wash over me like a tidal wave
and move under my clothes,
against my skin,
and leave me feeling cold
but clean.
anxiously vibrating
Too anxious to sit still
but too tired to move around
so I am here, stuck,
vibrating through my stationary body
with energy strong enough
to boil a pot of water.
watering can in a rainstorm
Like a flower trapped in dry soil
yearning for either a rainstorm
or a watering can,
you came to me
as a watering can,
in a rainstorm,
all at once.
Only you have no idea.
out of the current
When I wrote about you
I hardly had to think at all.
Words appeared on the paper
as if from nowhere,
or a power higher and stronger than myself.
Flowing like a river downstream
I had no choice but to follow it,
with words to describe you, us,
in hundreds of ways
sweeping me with the current.
I am out of the current now.
There may be peace in calm, cool water
but also discomfort.
I wish not to write of you any longer,
but I cannot find words for anything else.
the tidal wave
I have stayed away,
kept my distance,
for fear that if I came too close
and opened the door
the tidal wave would erupt,
tearing down the door and the frame
with nothing to stop the water
until it slowed down to a stream.
I thought I needed time,
more lumber and nails,
to build the frame stronger
to make it withstand the force
building. I could feel it building
against the back of my eyes
within the cage of my chest
around the bones in my hands.
To wait just a while longer
would allow the wave to rescind
and I could open the door just a crack,
letting out the water I wanted,
under my control.
Believed this, I did.
Now, here I stand,
with the door open wide
and only a trickle of water passing
around and over my feet.
The anticipated wave is gone,
and only a small, calm pond lies
in the distance.
I was ready for the wave.
I expected and wanted it.
Still it has not come
leaving my dry skin uncomfortable
like a garden yearning to grow
with the promise of rain
that never delivers.
The wave will come again I know
to not be denied past my door.
I can only guess when or where
but I will be there
armed with paper and a pen.
Dawning Words 