Rumbling

author’s note:

“How slowly we flash up in clarity!”
                  --  Nelly Sachs


STOKING THE THUNDERBOLT

As the dark cloud
shadows my path

again, I am made small

and return to
the childhood wonder

of how a cloud builds up
as it searches the earth--
slowly filling
with life
until ready to burst

like an eggplant ripened
nearly to rotting--
every egg must eventually
surrender its shell.

I can’t help but wonder
as I did as a child
how those wispy clouds
not only survive
the tearing wind
but build stronger, fighting.

As they grow, they begin
to hear the thunder god
rumbling within--
the thunder god will use them.

When I sense such forces
I can’t help but wonder
as I did as a child
how my own life
will play out--

you never know--premonitions
don’t even tell us half the truth--

the flash creation
actually happens
so very slow--
no matter how
you urge it on.

I can’t imagine: yet I know
such forces--when summoned--
very nearly kill us.

But such forces, unsummoned--
unexpected--kill us even worse.

So I bow here, working the hammer--
knowing that with each stroke
I stoke the thunderbolt, that I stoke
toward bursting.

© 2009, Michael R. Patton
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