Friday, April 21, 2017

Colors of the Storm

Eyes open, tired and heavy. Too tired for a young adult.
Heavy thoughts and Tired Body - feeling old before my time.

The mirror shows dark circles, not enough sleep.
My thoughts are slurred and painful - but I don't drink. I don't do drugs.
Sometimes the lightest person can feel heavy weights.

...Even the optimist appreciates the gloom of rainy days sometimes. Especially if it matches the pain in heart, pain in mind.

One night of heavy sleep doesn't make up for dozens with almost none.
Hard to read, hard to work, hard to think.

Ah, but it isn't just the gloom of rainy days that attracts.
There's something wonderful about wet trees, wet green, wet world.
New colors come up in storms, like deeper character popping out right when it is hardest.
You see the character... and the future. The future of the tree, the grass, the world... bright with color, vivid in life.

Hammers pound in the back of my head, trying to block out the world.
Light hurts, the world hurts, memories hurt.

But birdsong comes through the storm. I see them flitting through the trees.
Silent minutes before, now happily pulling up worms and singing away.

Only moments before the sky sent down buckets of rain.
Now the pines show their deep dark roots on their bark sleeves.
The Junipers wear an Irish green, brighter than their usual.
All the colors contrast with water and shadow.
There's a steady drip drip, coming from a leak in the wall.

My thoughts stray, I shudder.
Some things are better left unthought.
I hide from my thoughts, the world.
Small people always are better at hiding...

Ah, but I will be like a bird.
I won't drown.
The pain will be absorbed, or wash away, like water in a storm.
I'll hide from the storm, in the shadow of the sheltering tree, the Great Refuge of my heart.
Maybe soon the storm will stop.
Maybe new colors will show.
Maybe soon, I'll sing again.

It stirs in my heart already....

From the Psalmist....
I called to the Lord, who is worthy of praise,
    and I have been saved from my enemies.
The cords of death entangled me;
    the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
The cords of the grave coiled around me;
    the snares of death confronted me.
In my distress I called to the Lord;
    I cried to my God for help.
From his temple he heard my voice;
    my cry came before him, into his ears.
The earth trembled and quaked,
    and the foundations of the mountains shook;
    they trembled because he was angry.
Smoke rose from his nostrils;
    consuming fire came from his mouth,
    burning coals blazed out of it.
He parted the heavens and came down;
    dark clouds were under his feet.
10 He mounted the cherubim and flew;
    he soared on the wings of the wind.
11 He made darkness his covering, his canopy around him—
    the dark rain clouds of the sky.
12 Out of the brightness of his presence clouds advanced,
    with hailstones and bolts of lightning.
13 The Lord thundered from heaven;
    the voice of the Most High resounded.[d]
14 He shot his arrows and scattered the enemy,
    with great bolts of lightning he routed them.
15 The valleys of the sea were exposed
    and the foundations of the earth laid bare
at your rebuke, Lord,
    at the blast of breath from your nostrils.

God is our refuge and strength,
    an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
    and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
    and the mountains quake with their surging.[c]

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
    will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.[a]
I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
    my God, in whom I trust.”