Prose Poetry: The Stormy Sky – 28/03/20

I sit by my window and stare at the sky. There is nothing more beautiful in this very moment that I can capture, nothing else which can cause my heart to swell with appreciation. The clouds, they gather in wisps and blobs – light though, they are – they have this sort of moodiness about them, this white and grayness culminating in the distance.

I am pleased with my seated position, for here I can observe that which I wish to, the land of kingdoms above, and the land below, that which we are blessed to walk upon. I smile to myself at knowing that one day, I will be permitted to enter the kingdom above, a knowledge that makes me feel such warmth inside, I cannot adequately describe the feeling. 

Thus, I relax, and observe, and suddenly two gulls pass by and through my vision. The sea is such a calming place, even when the wind is gusting and the nearby sand dunes are throwing speckles of sand onto the skin of my face, I still can appreciate it, I am glad that I live here. These gulls are a sign of hope: they are out foraging, no doubt. They are alive and well, just as we are, within our isolated worlds. It is a necessity to be alone sometimes, and I know that this precious time can be taken to understand and hold gratitude toward everything positive presented to me in life. Even the negative, I surmise, because these experiences have taught me lessons.

I continue to stare at the sky, the clouds now gathering angrily: cumulus, fierce, dark. It is as though they are forewarning of a time when my mind will grow stormy, the thoughts clouded in my crammed mind. Sometimes there are too many, they stagnate within my skull, washing away the peace and tranquillity which was originally there to be felt and observed.

And suddenly, through the open pane, the first smell of rain permeates into my nostrils, that deep soil-like odour, mixed with the humidity of the pavement. I relish this scent; I have cherished it from years prior, during my childhood where it reminded me of the pre-empting of some of the most glorious and appreciated downpours ever to be seen. I wish to dance in the rain, you see. Unfortunately, this cannot be.

Instead, I watch a new pair of birds soar and duck and dive, their forms so delightfully wonderful, streamlined and sheer perfection. Sometimes I wish I were one of those birds, if only for a moment. I could fly to my heart’s content, and never feel the need to further understand my yearning for it. But in a few seconds, they are gone, and I am left with their vision in my mind’s eye. Their freedom mimics that which beats within my heart, a desire, a yearning, for freedom outside the closed doors.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.   
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay 

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