Torrents

And suddenly,
after weeks of Camelot weather,
the storms arrive,
inevitable,
implacable
in their power,

threatening
to sweep you downriver
to an ocean
of beautiful loss,
to leave you there
to drown.

But you are no longer in danger
aware that the storm is real
as feelings,
but the torrent is down there
and you stand on the shore above
wet from weather, but only that,
a bystander to the storm
with a home, warm and waiting
not far away.

About this poem

Yesterday, as word of my new book of verse (see the post below) came out, and orders began to came in, I grew sad for a moment. My mom had urged me to get back to publishing before her death last spring, and all that’s happened since, her death, my dad’t mental and physical issues, sale of the family home, the end of a relationship, my own health issues – all came rushing over me.

But only for a moment. Things are better. I am better. I let them wash over me briefly, acknowledged the realness of the feelings, and let them flow. And it was done. I could enjoy the moment again.

These kinds of sadnesses can spring from nowhere. After a time of being “fine”, they jump out like an angry ghost. But they pass now. And it’s important to know that. They pass. Torrents cannot sustain themselves.

And life, with all it’s beauty and joy, endures.

Tom

PS – The picture was taken in Pawlet, VT last spring, when rains and warm weather thaws combined to create floods and raging creeks. That passed too.