This place I love, this place I fear

It’s a Tuesday, or Wednesday evening or whatever night it is that I have some writing assignment due and I can’t seem to sit there and just make myself type the words. in my head I find myself running again, chasing the ever elusive inspiration, or more so muse-inspiration’s trickier cousin. Expertly evading, constantly changing, where are you tonight? Finding muse isn’t necessary per se it sort of just happens like a shock that hits you. Keeping muse is where skill is required. It’s sort of like charming a cobra, trying to keep things entertained and not getting struck with a lethal bite at the same time. Keeping muse in motion is a lot like seduction, for it to work nothing can be too blunt, every step, every move, every word must be executed in a tactful manner. So here I am, banging on door after door with a loud fist looking for a sliver muse that I can use, or at least inspiration which will tell me how to get there. I have my column I think to myself, and my blogs, I have to write. I tell myself I have to write. Out the window behind me the dark sky begins to cry.


Trickling serenity

down the window pane.

So it begins.

I listen

because I can’t

do anything but


I’m in this trance.

Lulled by rain dance.

So it pours.

I wish to jump in,

to run, to roll, to

kiss the rain;

to be kissed in the rain.

But I don’t because

I won’t get that close.


I’m swarmed

with warm air.

Fingertips stroking the few

drops that draw near.

Threading over my skin

through the balcony screen.

This is

as close as

I get tonight.


The storm is here.

Such a dark, dreary

hypnotic aurora.

This place I love,

this place I fear.

The sky rolls and shouts

and cracks about.

The storm is here.

I listen because

I can’t afford not to listen.

And I watch because

I have to.

Look at that one there!

That strike of light so close to here.

My goodness what a sight.

There’s nothing like that light,

nothing like it,

not tonight.

Voltage striking like a whip that would make the sun screech.

I stand alone,

captivated by the voltage making the sky breech.


Notice how they never do this together?


A storm I mean,

there’s no sun but there’s

so much light.

So much, so fast.

Don’t blink or the crash

will tell you,

“you’ve missed it.”

You’ve missed this amazing

string of electricity,

that pounds so much power so quickly.


Keep your eyes open darling.


I think the sun fears the storm just as

I sometimes do.

In an instant, the world is

whiter than white.

Absolute power cloaked in solitude.

Such meekness.

Sets the mood.

An unbelievable, impossible-to-ignore-presence.

It holds me, in arms of zeal

and shoulders of fortitude.

I can’t go anywhere,

I can’t budge

from a hold like this

and even the part of me that wants too;

The part that shivers,

with goose bumps, and a  racing heart,

will just have to make do.

Tonight I won’t go


because here is where

I stay with you.


In one moment I was simply there.

Now I’m here and

It’s all so different


I’m so happy,


I’m so scared.

Don’t ever leave.

I don’t know

what this is but God,

I want it

to stay.


When it stops and

I come to, I don’t know

what to do because

it’s dark

and I can’t seem to say

but only think where are you?

Then I hear the quiet

speaking in whispers and

I think, maybe

that’s you.


In the damp dark

there’s only remnants

of what happened.

Just as it fades to what was rain

I have think, it’s over now,

It’s over now, right?

Yes, it is, it’s over now.

Then there’s a soundless flash

of finality,

like a photo snapped for memory,

and I am forced to wait

until it happens again.

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