The Storm / The Island

The Storm

I hear colors and see sounds

Stark black and white flashes

Electric zebra stripes exploding from the violent cacophony of mindless noises and screeching voices.

The sharpened tendrils of reality slash through the dreams of quiet solitude.  Dreams, thoughts really, of what could be.

And Yet

 If one will listen, perhaps the color of the rain may be heard, Multi-hued greys, no, not the greys of sadness but a cooling welcome respite from the summer heat.

Hear the earth mother’s gentle sigh as she brings nourishment to all of her family.

So, I say let us go back to the beginning , let us listen and learn.

Hear the voice of the Shekinah – the feminine aspect of Yah that is the Earth Mother.

So

Let us hear her voice and heed no others. Let us understand what she would say to us.

 And then yes

 we can have a quiet peace that cannot be shattered.

The Island

I wonder where the time went?

When was the last time we saw that drawbridge in the rear view mirror.

We found where the road divides and we all drifted our separate ways.

The island is still there, it changed, it is no longer our home.

A childhood vision is all that remains.

And yet

We are the bay, the islands and  shorelines.

Our ancestors, their spirits still roam these shores.

You can still hear their voices on the breeze.

Could we ever go back there and be together again?