Spring Thunder

Sound returns

Welcome, and a warm first hello to the newcomers!

I’m so happy you’re here.

Each of these Sunday poems center loosely around a tarot card, and this week we’re checking in with the Moon.

This card reminds me that sometimes, all I can do is let go and embrace the mystery.

SPRING THUNDER

Thunder after silence of winter.
Remember that shouting still exists.
Now that the static has cleared from the air,
Sound can travel again.
I heard once that birdsong tells the trees to bring forth their buds.
I heard once that if you’re able to speak truth, you must.

The first spring thunder is a hymen stretched to tearing,
A rupture that is both natural and not necessary.
I remember going home after my own became a scrap, dangling,
How I examined my face in the bathroom mirror,
Looking for signs that I was different now, somehow more,
Searching for evidence that I was a woman, not a whore.

Spring lightning streaks down my legs,
Leaves trails of evidence that a new chapter has come.
What is a season, but a rising tide of women’s blood,
A river, long-ago burst above its banks?
Ladies know the lightning by its smell.
When a young body is ready for the lightning,
Women can always tell. 

Do not mock the small creatures who hide for no reason:
They feel a shift in pressure that is beyond your comprehension,
And by the time the spring thunder beats your ears,
They will be safe and secret, up high and down low.
Let those rowdy rabbits keep their lucky feet.
Is it not enough that cold finally permits its own retreat?

Sound travels so long to be here again. 
After winter, thunder breaks its silence.

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