Sometimes the Flood

Sometimes the flood comes
too fast,
too much tearing at you

ripping you from your feet,
from your moorings,
washing you downriver,

another piece of flotsam
in the storm, another
victim, battered,

unable to swim in the maelstrom,
your soul torn,
grasping, gasping,

momentarily at mercy
of the floodwaters,
released thoughtlessly,

without ever considering
your life too, has value;
your life too, matters.

But this time is different.

You have survived storms before,
and your scars,
while they do not protect you,

remind you
that there is a shore,
that water grows shallow

and you will rise,
stronger,
turning your violent victimhood

into a dance.

======================

The picture was taken on the 4th of July, as a storm came towards Manchester, VT.

Tom