the girl who used to dance on fire and brimstone (whiskyinmind) wrote,
the girl who used to dance on fire and brimstone
whiskyinmind

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The girl who watched the storm

(posting from a new fangled wireless broadband doohikey in a guest house - can't stay long, it costs an arm and a leg!)

Roadtrip = amazing
Weather = crap 'till today
Today = thunder and lightening.
Me = giddy like a schoolgirl (I LOVE STORMS!!!! Always have, always will!)
Heading home tomorrow (in Brora right now - other side of the country and waaaaaaay up north - could take a while to get there!)


The sky is black silver;
The air is heavy, but
Not too much weight to bear.
Light flickers.
Is it real?
Or is it in my mind?

Does it matter?

Promised warmth,
Existing only in the violence of the sky.

The rain comes.
Sudden.
Drenching.
Amazing.

An affirmation of life.

The gods are laughing as I realise,
The rain gutters need to be cleaned.

The storm passes overhead,
Lightening forks, thunder cracks,
I remember.

The nights I would sit,
On the sill – top floor –
Watching.

The loch had a line,
A mark, following the
Storm.

Or maybe heralding it,
Shouting out loud
I AM HERE!!

The nights were darker then,
The storms were longer,
I was younger.

It doesn’t matter.

Now.
In this moment.
I am me again.

Tags: poetry, real life
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