gray.

Rain on this tin roof. The clouds are moved in against the mountains as if they are dancing together slowly in the dark. Lightning flashes, like bright electricity from the west, and in the pause between the echoe, the sky takes back the darkness, the shadows slowly breathing together in time to the answering thunder rolls.
I feel like this storm, full and heavy but glorified in the letting go, of the reveling in the wind and the water and the rain.
I wonder if this storm will touch the horizon to the west, if it will reach out sleepy fingers into the evenings of the people I love. If even under all this time and space that separates, if we really are still under the same sky.

But tonight all I can do is let the storm take me. Take my insecurities, like a bird takes to the wind, take my utter fears and leave me clean earth, wet and ready to begin.
Tear away these hardening walls, these eyes that have begun not to see. Shake me from this day dream that has become somehow, a reality.

My hands are sore from making cheese, and heating milk and feeding hungry baby kids.

My eyes are sore from the sleep I have, with the empty space in the middle of my bed. 

 I feel the magic of grace as it moves, I feel it circle my legs and purr in the evening when I lay my tired body down. I feel it upon my shoulder, in the morning, it's wings soft and without sound. I feel this grace upon me now. Even when all I feel is gray. This grace is what sustains me now.

Splintered time. and unborn words, float away, they are absurd. I am unbound in the joys of life and I am free, freer, and my skin holds the secrets of real delight.

I am simply gray tonight.

But gray, is the sweet, safe place between black and white.