love is a storm first
commanding you to put down
the hurt you hold so close to your chest
or be blown away to oblivion
forever in broken, jagged
it does not wait for compliance
or derision or more information
it is centered in calm, but surrounded
in hot, beating, electric chaos
hold on or be swept away
if love is a storm
i let go
Yesterday there was a beautiful storm. Instead of the dull and usual Vancouver rain, this storm was a dynamic swirling energy. Unlike a smooth, linear progression it traveled like an intense ballet: with delicate control and gentle movement interspersed with cracking thunder and clouds crashing like waves.
There is something to be said about a storm. A beautiful day of sun can give me the biggest grin but a beautiful storm captures my attention like a tug on a rope, pulling me in to see eye to eye — and then to let me back slowly, inch by inch. I imagine that’s what it’s like to be inside of a hurricane. To experience something much larger than you engulf you yet be in its calm.
It must be called the eye of the storm because once inside it, you see the beauty and glory of the storm.
It’s almost half past seven and I just finished dinner. I wonder if it’s the stress and anxiety that come up when I think about my first class, but I’ve been dealing with some intense feelings the last hour. My girlfriend and I broke up in December and it’s as if my snow globe life got a good shaking. I can feel the little voices in the back of my head clear their throats as I enter my Print Futures class, the voices that try to sway my inner volition. Those same voices buzz every so often, and sometimes in the middle of the busiest day, their drone drags me like an undertow. Thankfully, I’ve had lots of support in this transition period, and had plenty of good reads and arms to hold. Part of this emotional and life adjustment involves addressing my feelings. When you can allow yourself to feel (which is hard when you don’t understand what you feel, or if you are even aware that you feel), you allow yourself to grow. Your body and subconscious are sponges that collect everything that passes through you: you are what you eat, but you are also what you think, feel, and do. To let yourself feel is to let the feeling drift in and out of your consciousness like a cloud. Even the lightest clouds become rain, but sometimes the darkest clouds produce the brightest rainbows. Life is not the black or the white or the grey or the green, etc. Life is the red and blue and yellow, the colours that birth more colour. It is the storm and it is the rainbow together. To let yourself feel is to realize you are a storm – a bunch of different clouds of potential. Storms keep the trees growing, and the night beautiful.
i walk with you into the storm
darkness and heat gather and stumble,
fork-lightning-flashes shatter and scatter
fresh cracks of thunder fade into the
deep rumbling silence:
i shrink under your eyes
like sunlight in daybreak, gentle and focused;
through the clouds always, tiny water droplets
in dance: suspend, float, bend
unconditional light shining through the eternity
of space between your closed fingers
eyes, doors shut.
through windows cracked and stained
light intense as love.