[one stormy day in sydney]
i ache in colour and rhyme,
in love and lust
and like everything else i feel it all too deep.
well below the surface it swirls and kicks and edges closer to the thin and fragile membrane of my full and fluttering heart.
deep and honest and real.
there’s something in the air. a change. an eeriness. an energy i can feel and sense and taste.
a hurricane is coming. well, two hurricanes are coming. i feel nervous, a little scared. a little worried, sure. but part of me feels like it’ll pass without a worry, in this bubble of paradise and perfection. it’s like the winds i’m feeling and hearing right now, i’ve felt and heard before. but this seems different. because we know what’s coming. we can see it: on radars and weather channels, on news reports from near and far; in the closing of businesses, the empty shelves where bottled water is usually stocked; in the eyes of people, so nervous, so over-prepared. so intensified by the emotions and paranoia of the locals and the media and the tourists. it saturates the island air.
there is so much going on, in all the people on the island where i’ve kept my heart for the best part of this year. i can feel it. vibrating, pulsating, echoing against the walls of fear built around homes of weatherboard and plaster. on the coast, waiting for the storm. waiting for the rain. waiting for the wind and floods and chaos. waiting for the damage and the fallout and the disaster and the worst.
well what pointless waiting that will be.
weather the storm. it’s wild and wickedly yelling all its secrets in spurts of showers, sun and empty sky. for now.
it’s windy tonight.
i like the wind. i like the way it rustles my life, the way it scatters the papers of the plans i’m meant to have. they float around my soul, so perfectly weightless. so indelible in their uselessness.
so then let it all come undone.
there was a storm last night. he came, gusting across australia from perth. “look out, i’m coming for you,” he warned as he whipped across the plains.
the storm was fierce. he banged against my window, threw the rain violently onto the house, in every direction. he threatened the structure, tried to steal the roof, woke me from my sleep, frazzled me, upset my dreams.
“if you were just a little quieter, storm…” i tried to reason. no hope.
then, when there was nothing more to destroy, no more damage to be done. he left.
he’d had his fun. left in the morning. satisfied.