then suddenly here
If you live in LA, it’s likely you woke up to thunder this morning.
My boyfriend said the sky started rumbling around 4am, but I first heard it around 7am. I’ve never experienced tremors from a bluish sky, it seemed uncanny. Stranger still was the soft patter of rain that broke out a few minutes later. Where exactly was water coming from? The sky didn’t seem grey enough to release any tears.
We walked outside, the droplets were heavy but spaced apart. Directly above me was that familiar blue hue, but rain was finding its way to my skin, wetting my white sleeping dress. It was real but I could have easily been dreaming.
A baptism after a dark spell.
A cleanse of the earth as a new season dawns.
A water sign, making a grand entrance.
Thunder and lightening rarely makes an appearance in LA, we get it once a year if we’re lucky. I can’t imagine the fear and awe that early humans must have felt when the sky cracked open.
How could we not have looked for explanations beyond our earthly capabilities. Gods do exist, whether we can put a science to them or not.
The tremor felt in the bones, the branch of momentary light. Suddenly it all becomes palpable, as water flows from who knows where.
Ethereal, both in wrath and release.
Chaos, but make it godly. We can all dance with this force, sway with its swirl. Better than try to shun the otherworldly.
Here’s to the rain where we least expect it, the sacred communion of earth and sky.
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