Storm Ritual

author’s note:

“Splish splash!”
           –- Bobby Darin


STORM RITUAL

Why didn't I run
from those stallions of storm clouds
rushing toward me
over the grassland of the valley?

Obviously I felt compelled
to wake my sleepy head
but maybe I was also held
by this secret wish:

to stand naked
and let the god of lightning
blast apart the stubborn fist
that binds my heart—
a block resistant to my persistent pleas
for freedom.

And maybe I opened my arms
to the cold merciless rain
because my dreams keep telling me:
wash yourself clean.

Whatever the deeper reasons may be
I can say for certain
the silly child I still am
found joy in the splashing dance

and as sunlight followed storm
I instantly instinctively felt hope—
for a moment, quiet ecstasy freed my heart
as the rainbow arc
joined one mountain to the other mountain
across the valley.

Finally, a ritual has elicited
the heightened sense of reality I seek.
But I must find a safer way
to reconnect with my truth.

If I don’t
deep need may drive me
to again stand and say
come on
next time I see stallions of storm clouds
rushing to wash me down.

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