Set back from the gusts,
We gathered, prayed and set fire to the temples,
We lit our fires with rough matches… smoked the world.
Truth is, in the end, my heart was hard to the touch.
The day’s subtext became our unspoken.
Now I see, better spoken than broken!
There’s a turning point where words need to appear
and it’s almost always too late…
Now though, even after all these years,
I still see you in the rain, the wind, on sunny days.
There is no turning away from those gusts. They touch you
and it can’t be undone.
Embrace, embrace, the lightness.
We are not stone.