Forget myself

country lane field meadow puddles
Photo by SplitShire on

I want the storm to come
and fill the atmosphere with
three dimensional anticipation-
eruptions of power.

I want the storm to come
blow right down into my sunny
status quo where the air
is still.

I want the storm to come
stir things up, promise change,
bring thunderheads pregnant
with rain.

I want the storm to come
show me God’s power,
see him move molecules to form
storehouses of water.

I want the storm to come
bring healthy fear, loose sight
of ills, anxieties, cheap thrills,
self-preserving quiet.

Ah here it comes
grey and white towers in the sky,
flashes of deadly light
booming threats arrive.

Let it rain, let it thunder
let it blow my hair, wet my face
startle me with alarming voice,
make me stand in wonder.

Let it blow down all my props,
all my padded, pretty shelters,
head down pretending danger isn’t
in here.

Come storm come!
Let me stand in your midst
gusts knock me over,
lift my head, spread my arms
forget myself in your power.

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