Like clouds, there are different kinds of sadness;
Wispy memories,
Beautiful when caught in the sunset,
Admired best at a distance;
Clouds towering to fill a giants stomach,
Roaring tears like a waterfall;
Clouds of smoke
Obscuring the fires below,
Obscuring the need for rain.
She tried not to notice,
but she knew.
A new little cloud
that grew and grew,
while she worked to keep
her head down.
Disparate clouds merge to one,
A soaring tower of Babylon,
as her mind made up
Giants to explain the shadows.
But soon she could feel them,
A weighted fog.
She looked and saw the ache
at the heart of the sky,
Weighed down by these grey stones.
At first she feared the sky would fall,
but felt the damp, sticky air creep
into her ear and whisper,
Then she feared the sky wouldn’t.
She witnessed the first drop.
Then nothing,
and nothing,
and wait.
The agony of hope.
The dread of hoping for pain.
At first the rain poured and poured,
then slowed
and slowed.
no no no. She knew that wasn’t enough.
The rain had to keep pouring to save the sky.
But it slowed
and slowed
a normal rain
a light rain.
The first time it misted
she fumed.
It rained
and whipped
and poured
and sprinkled
and misted
and drenched
and trickled
and washed,
wave after wave,
day after day.
On board the ark
she fed the animals by hand.
Each tooth scratch
a flash of lightning
reminding
the world is wide,
while nibbles rumble,
you’re still here.
a chill,
like it might be a good thing.
At night she roomed in a stall,
layed down with a lioness.
Other animals had softer fir,
but she wanted
the weight and warmth,
the fear and understanding.
In time she welcomed the mists.
A break.
She’d wash in the light rains,
played in the puddles,
a break.
Grateful for a break.
When she first stepped out
mud would stick to her.
Some steps she feared she’d get stuck,
And the muck clung
long after she thought it should.
Spring sprung,
sun sung,
laughter and life returned…
But Noah’s daughter-in-law,
Who’d slept with her lioness,
Still trembles sometimes
at the sight of clouds.
