Wild Child

a child of thunder and lightning

i am drawn to them for sustenance

gathering strength from their ancient presence

my father’s booming voice

now grumbles comfortingly

now crashes explosively from above,

a measure of his harsh protective love

 

my lightning mother

stabs me to the heart with her beauty

and lights my path in darkest night

“always strike for the heart” she said

“for good or ill, heart’s-blood is healing

 only an open heart can welcome god”

 

father’s growly muttering wakes the wind

who laughing wildly,

rushing, swirling

sings cantatas among the leaves

chuckles in the water lapping at the pier

and whispers secrets 

that only me and the fireflies can hear

 

my mother cleaves the night with her stark glamour

she fills me to the core with pulsing light

she sends the rain to bathe me

clothes me in warm soft summer wetness

and electrifies my dreams with sacred fire

 

her glow fades behind the clouds

as she follows her gruff husband

sharing the power of their passage

with all their children

all those who look upwards

all who are ready to be broken open,

spilled and filled again, emptied and filled,

emptied and filled …

 

© 2009 Pamela Twining