Inviting the storm

The storm has arrived,
breaking over your heaving shoulders
like a dark cloak.

I have been watching, as you held it back
with your bare hands and your silence,
afraid of its shattering,
until this moment
when it slipped, howling,
through your tired fingers
to unmake you.

A torrent of tears is coursing a valley
where the dry riverbed is etched on your heart,
and the high banks you had built against this tide
fall into its waters now,
dissolving like sand.

Amid the gale of your grief, we will stand firm
with feet rooted in the good earth of our belonging,
here.

And if the storm wakes the neighbours,
let them come to your door
bearing the empty bowls
of their own unmet longings.

Let the children come close,
So that they remain unafraid,
for they are natural kin to wildernesses of the heart.

And when the tornado softens,
we shall all emerge once more,
faces washed clear by its passage.
While you, my love, will find your sun back in its skies
and the diamond sharp stars will return
to guide your way forward.