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THE THUNDERER, by Melanie Kornfeld Grimes.
In the lightning storm of my heart
you have carved a place of passion,
a home of wavering turbulence lit up with light,
igniting and uniting electric fire within torrential tears.
You have burned me, scorched me, marked me, branded me and made me your own.
With tears I have washed the fire of this love, this loss, this burning desire.
I lie awake at night praying for stillness, for the calm center of the storm to pass over me and offer me release.
You hold yourself in, but I see you for what you are.
The power to create and destroy.
The explosive giver of life.
The source of fertile conception, the semen source of life.
The stormy one who tosses the seas upon the shore, who leaves the maidens widowed and with child.
Who returns on cresting white caps, to the maelstrom of the sea. You light this fire and it consumes me as you dance away on waves of my tears.
You are the thunderer, the one we were taught to fear.
And I, alone in the cliffs, watch the bruised clouds crest over the mountains that announce your arrival with pooling hail.
Washing over me until I am brought to my knees in despair.
You light the sky around me, but I am small and the brilliance blinds me, cripples me and breaks me.
I drown in your arms, engulfed by the heat,
licked by the flames of desire,
defeated by the forces that separate day from night,
man from woman,
water from fire,
and tears from rain.
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