The sky is covered
A thick membrane of clouds
Soon its burgeoning weight will rip
Through and penetrate my open face
With prickling rain, the wind
Pushes me from my destination
As I am lit in a violent-white wash
Of lightning strike, the air comes
Together in a crash of desirous need
And I can breathe again
My blind hands seek out
The strength of shelter
I’ve know in your touch
I’m coming home.

12/06/1999

Posted on 02/01/2003
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