Washed Clean

We begin at the end
at the close of the day
when night falls
and the darkness descends
to lull us to sleep
feeling safe and protected.
In the air
the heaviness gathers
with the low rumble
here and there
of questions asked and not answered
announcing that the gods
are arguing.
Even without the light
that bids us see
during the day
there is no doubt
about what is to come next
the thrill of electricity
that will surround us.
The darkness is split open
cracked apart by unseen forces
to illuminate that which
was hidden in the dark
only moments ago
showing us that no one
can hide forever.
Brilliant, white-hot and deadly
the lightning puts on
an amazing display
of what we capture and release
every day without fear
by the flick of a switch
after we let the beast in to our homes.
Head pounding
eyes beginning to blur
I feel the storm build
with each question and answer
from one god to another
the pressure grows
and I go to shut out the shouting.
When it is mornings’ turn
to end the darkness
I see that the
day has been washed clean
smelling fresh
of green and peace and earth
a blank slate on which to create
my life.
The trees look taller
while the plants bend under the
weight of dew drops
and the gift from the sky in the night
their thirst is slaked for now
only to be drained once again
by the beauty of the sun
as the day wears on.
I walk in the cool morning air
enjoying the drip drop from the leaves
the sun peaking over the trees
the grass wetting the paws
of my furry companion
my skin soaking the freshness,
the possibilities
still hanging in the air. 
It is the start of a new day
holding a metaphor
for the changes coming in my life
by my hand
no mysterious forces at work here
only the feeling of chance
in a carefully constructed chaos.
A thirst that will finally be slaked
a way to be shiny and new
a break with the darkness
to let the creative light shine
on possibility and growth
my time to stand taller
and accept the gifts from above.

2 thoughts on “Washed Clean

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