Dance Again

There is no beauty like a storm—
the wild, wet wind, the rolling cloud
that coats the sky with shifting form,
the thunder tolling rich and loud,
the lightning striking violet-white
across the deep and turbulent sky,
patterning the dark with ragged light
to dazzle and blind the watching eye.
There is no power like the wind
that rumples clouds like darkling foam
to pluck the soul loose that’s been pinned,
to break the heart from its cage of bone.
My love’s the storm who pinned my heart
and washed it clear in pelting rain,
who gave me fire to form my art
and taught me how to dance again.

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