This poem was recently revised, and because it never appeared on the blog, it is now posted out of chronological order.

Out of the Blue

March 15 2009

The lightning came

from a clear blue sky.

An act of God, someone said.

I scoffed

“Why, that’s just insurance talk

for no one’s responsible.

Why bring Him into it?”

Because while those mythic gods

messed about with vengeance

hurtled lightning bolts

lusted after mortals,

the prophetic God

leaves well enough alone.

It split an ancient oak,

singed branch, fallen

scarred trunk, curling smoke.

When it hit

I felt my hair frizz, skin prickle, muscles twitch,

then couldn’t remember

what year this is.

I awoke,

soaked with rain

the sting of hail

sky as grey as cinders.

A storm you could truly describe

as Biblical.

Now, we find it hard to trust

clear blue skies.

And wonder if the tree

will live, or die.

And are still surprised

there never was a rainbow

I have as much trouble remembering

as I did before.

I feel His absence

even more.