August 3rd, 2013

the storm in me

bubbling up but not boiling,
below the surface, but overflowing
the insides of me have been turned out
a new sensitivity to light, air, touch and sound

my eyes are always squinting lately
there is so much out there trying to find a way in,
much more than I am able to give access,
when did these bridges into my heart burn?

the storm is on the outside of me,
rain and fire churning for my skin,
I am raw; not clean but scrubbed,
I am closed, but the door is leaking

I was healed once; whole and solid,
contained like citrus fruit in a thick, shiny casing
still soft and tender, but full and earnest
luscious like lavender; clean with scars faded

the storm is now on the inside of me,
clouds loom in my belly, gray and heavy
waves crash my blood with fervor,
tides rise and recede with extreme measure

and I am riding this storm knowing
knowing the sun can heal me
knowing the clouds will clear
knowing the ocean cleanses
hoping the ocean cleanses
hoping the ocean cleanses with the salt on my skin
                and on my heart
a salt scrubbed heart that’s clean.