The Storms

The clap of thunder awakens me.
I open my eyes and stare into space
awaiting the next sound I hoped would come:
the sound of rain.

I didnít have to wait for long.
it followed close behind.
The drops coming down quietly
then getting louder and heavier.

I lay on my bed for a while listening
to the storm raging around me.
We are the same, the storm and I.
But it is outside-mine is inside.

Iím out of bed and walking through the door.
I step onto the covered porch
where the rain cannot touch me -
but I want it to.

As I step off into the grass I enter it.
The shock of cold, wet rain
battering my body and soaking me
with hard, relentless steadiness.

I stand there for a while feeling it
as its intensity begins to fade
until it becomes a soft cushion
surrounding me and making me feel at peace.

Then it comes to meÖI now know why I have a  love of storms.

My body has itís own storm
raging inside my very soul.
Beating unmercifully at my heart -
a torment with no end in site.

I canít use an umbrella to keep it away.
If I go inside it follows,
clinging to me until it starts flooding
inside me and I have to let some go.

The tears that come do a little
to help the pressure of the storm,
but once the crying stops
the flood waters just build up again

There are those who do not understand
how the storm can still be with me.
Then, there are those who know how I feel
for they have storms of their own.

And why do I like to hear a storm outside
when I live with one all the time?
Because my own storm goes out to meet it
giving my heart a rest for a while

The heavens rain down the tears for me
and Iím kept from drowning in my own.

Author:   Laura Bellah (Stormy)
October 28, 2000