‘This umbrella tires of holding up the rain’

This umbrella tires of holding up the rain.
Her waterproof nylon grown thin,
Ribs starting to bend to the wind,
She tires,
Whispers: “Let the rain drench you.”
Wind blown sideways like the sky
Asking for directions as it falls
To the earth looking for suture:
Heal us, our stars and their stories.

This umbrella tires of holding up the rain.
It beseeches me to close it
“Look up!”
See patterns raindrops make falling
Like a web of stars torn apart
Looking for a new storyteller
To mix the tonic God pours down on us.
“Wrap your arms around me,” she says,
“Let the story fall on its own.”

Umbrella, I tire of holding back rain.
Open me up and I will catch it
This mystery I can no longer solve
The water will resolve its story
In rivers

Holding my collapsing ribs,
Holding my frayed skin together,
She accepts the rain inside.

Catch a Firefly

Come and catch a firefly with me
Like we are children playing free
Alone in a field designed for us
The grass, the trees, the flowers,
Perfection. What shall we do with it?
Put it in a jar, poked holes in lid,
Watch it become our lantern?
Or watch it languish alone?

Dare we lift the lid, reach inside,
Draw the firefly out to jar’s rim
Then sit together and just watch?
Eyes open, we await the exact moment
When it will choose to take flight,
Trace a swift arc around our field
Recapture enough lost time to then
Light up a whole universe within.

We will each reach out our hands
To catch it again, this light
Passing through our fingers like air.
I close my eyes, like a blind man
Turn my fingers to your skin and trace
The wholeness of a moment I sought
When I became aware of light spilling
Down the back of my soul, needing capture.

Image: Firefly Dance by Marc R. Hanson, 2009