Tag: thunderstorm

“Someone is caught outside in a storm”

Back into the Box

As above so below, as within so without. I keep reciting the hermeneutic principles in my head. Over and over and over again. As the universe so the soul.

I snort; involuntarily spraying rain water. Right. Now I am gargoyle waterspout. Hear me blubber! The universe’s responds for the soul, my arse! Well if not the universe so at least the local weather front that haunted my lunchtime walk. I tried to escape. I would say I tried to outrun it, but who am I kidding a lame duck who just had lunch could outrun me and that’s on a good day. I am getting pelted now. Soaked to the bone. I don’t feel it though. I am still walking, yes I have not yet even turned around back home. I will walk until the thunder within has calmed as the thunder above. I will walk until I can feel my skin again. I will walk until the rage abides, until I put the image of the narcissist back into a black box. I might imagine a couple of swords stuck through the box like in a magic trick. Anything to hold her in place and stop me from calling and give her what she wants attention. The universe responds to that image is a sudden whiteness. For a fraction of a second I can’t see anything but light and then the world booms and an oak tree falls.

Before Thunder

Raunacht Collection: Day 10

I was wearing a Panama hat sometimes a tropical hat,
khaki pants, or in the realm of reality they were nylon trousers my mom made.

That didn’t deter the explorer though, turning over large stones to watch all the creepy crawlies.
Krabbeltierchen in German scatter as the unexpected sunlight hits their shadowy world.

The clay of the river plain, cracked skin from the summer heat, noon flowers pastel lilac
somewhat limp amidst the dust. Longing for the thunderstorm brewing on the horizon,
as they hang onto life thirsting.

I feel the heat burning my neck; better watch it! Lest I get another sunburn and gran needs to administer the cooling gel.
I watch the wall of anthracite cotton candy threatening the silent summer day.

Only the crickets have the energy to make noise.
The skylarks rest after this morning’s efforts.
This is the moment before lightning bolts rip through the sky, and pelt the gentle flowers into submission;
before the rain sinks into the thirsty ground bringing life once more.

Thick thunderclouds rolling over the dyke fragile wild flowers are in the foreground
cof