Above Lock 18 – October 25, 2012
Thunder broke through the rain’s dull patter, shattered it like dropped glass, then rolled across the big river, fading then finding strength again, echoing from bank to bank, sending flocks of birds skyward in the distance.
It is a beautiful sound, beautiful and terrifying. It rattles the world, shrinks you down, leaves you feeling small.
I clung to the shore, hiding at the edge of a forest, refusing to drift away from the tall trees. There was nowhere else to go, no house to run to, no car to hide in, no back porch to watch from.
There’s beauty in that, in being part of it, in the icy rain, in the wind-driven waves, in the world shattered by thunder.
Watch all you want from under a roof. You’re just visiting a zoo. You can’t see the claws and teeth, the power, the wild. It’s all just theory until there are no bars protecting you, until you’re wet, pushed around, and shaken, until the sky lights up and your blood fills with adrenaline.
Until you’re in it.