After the Cloud Burst.

Sunrise doesn't last all morning, a cloudburst doesn't last all day, seems my love is up and has left you with no warning. It's not always going to be this grey. All things must pass, all things must pass away.     – George Harrison

I want to stand here for an eternity.

The clouds hang heavy and dark on the hills and the parched ground is dark and wet beneath me and the hills have come to life in a riot of rich browns and greens. Finally. The desert’s long-parched summer has given way to the fury and the beauty of the monsoon.

Lifting my face to the angry grey sky, I close my eyes and drink in the stillness of the after storm.

All summer long the pressure has been building, crashing wave over wave into me and when the sky opened up my own release came rushing out.

There are still moments when I wake frantic in the darkness and there are places in my memory that I do not wish to remember. I am afraid to lose love again and I wonder if my children will ever truly understand what I have given of myself for them. I’ve fought for them and for his memory, and I’ve struggled against the emotional and physical burden of it all. And through it all I’ve lost myself and found myself again, rediscovering who I am and who I am meant to be.

But at last the cloud has burst.

Standing here alone in the grey still, I think of everything past and everything yet to be. There is too much promise that I have not yet embraced, too much living left in me. The anchors and weights that have tied me down are slipping away and it is time for me to break free from this quiet stillness and race into the rain and emerge cleansed and exhilarated and free.  

Soon I’ll lose myself in the quiet grey air, the cold water splashing gently against my legs as they move in an even cadence.

In the quiet calm of my heart.