The storm is in the distance.
You can see it,
dark clouds and the shadow of rain.
You can smell it,
dank and salty.
There is thunder and the wind blows
in your face, a sure sign
that soon it will arrive
with its anger and fury.
Waves will rise,
tossing remnants of the sea,
wreckage and corpses,
and for a day, perhaps a few
you will set about methodically
hauling away the jetsam.
But for now, the sun shines.
For now, the gulls cry out as they fish off shore,
and the sand is dry and warm,
and nearby a strong house waits for you,
strong and sure.
This is not your first storm.
You have borne many of them
stronger than this.You have proven yourself
and know even the worst weather passes.
You have the luxury then to watch the storm’s approach
And it is a luxury, one achieved over time and scars,
a gathering of strength built on brokenness
that serves you, the eternal refugee, well.