My dusty eyelids open
the nimbus of sorrow,
pounding grief of the river
back into the earth.
Come out whistling whispers;
try and drown the fish.
Ring out every aching tear
drenching the wolf's tail.
Soak the feathers of an eagle
in the ripples of a lake.
Crack the crashing thunder
to the beat of eardrums.
Keep it falling even harder
till you finally ease my pain.
Let the rainbow heal my spirits;
let my wet moccasins rest.
Some men don't cry...
they make it rain.
Author's Notes/Comments:
Dancing Puddles is the calming of a thunder storm. I once asked my real father if he would cry if died suddenly. His response was if he did it would be in a way that nobody would know. I love my father, however, we had gone our seperate ways which had crushed me. We deliberately lost touch for almost three years. Then one day, I had received word he had a masive stroke and was on life support. The next day, I flew out to my home town to see him at the hospital and stayed by his bed side for close to a week before Christmas. We sure didn't talk much or really acknowledge each other but in our hearts we knew everything was forgiven. This man who was a star athlete in highschool couldn't even talk right let alone move the left side of his body. His heart is the thunderstorm and my love for him are dancing puddles. The rain seems to jump out from underneath the puddle and with in its own harmony appears to dance!
