Stand

I was reading recently of deserts and sandstorms, clouds and skies, sins and forgiveness, and deserts and sandstorms. The heroes and heroines of both tales responded in different ways to these deserts and sandstorms. Some sheltered down into cool and protective rock homes, others stayed outside in the brutal heat of the deserts and the wicked thrashing of the sand storms, deserts and sandstorms. The vivid images painted by these two sharp scenarios has stuck in my mind to the point of fueling an imagination lain dormant for too long a time, like the sands in a desert before the storm.

I imagined the terror and exhilaration of staring directly into the approaching tidal waves of winds and swirling sands and waiting to see what would happen next. When the storm had blown past, what would remain? Would the talons of disturbance tear flesh from bone? Would I stand inside a shield of protection watching the chaos surround and engulf the very air outside my translucent shelter? Would I be unscathed?

Can I find the answer to these questions without standing in the storm?

Will I stand?

Or, as countless forms that have come before have seen, would I be shaken, moved, torn, changed, ripped and rebuilt, ground down and reshaped? As the boulders crumble in the midst of the storm, the dunes shift and travel away, the desert dragons batten the hatches, all things of colour fade, the sky darkens, and those that are left are but dust and sand. Out here on this barren plain of shifting sands, those that stand are two grains of sand, and they are blown down by the wind. The children of a parched land are sifted and scattered before the very eyes of those who joined its desolation. But it’s too late to turn back. Storms approach in the desert. A parched land of deserts and storms. So I wait, I watch, I dig my feet and grit my teeth. The hounds pull ahead in the chase and the emancipated are captured. The only question that remains is:

Will I stand?

The only answer to the question is found by standing in the storm.

Tried and Tested

A dusty horizon,
Dark clouds rising high,
The sounds travel nearer,
Like a whispering sigh.

A mob in the desert,
The people of sins,
Approaches, is angry,
Send tension-filled winds.

They bear down upon me,
I’ve attempted to stand,
On my own and alone,
On the sad-shifting sand.

Huge human shapes rise,
They’re fortressed before me,
Intend none but my death,
On this vast barren sea.

I cryout in despair,
Hot tears falling and,
As their wave breaks upon me,
I realize I stand.

As the faces fly by,
Harsh glances are passed,
Great windy giants,
Surround me with past.

They sweep all around me,
Their force blowing strong,
Yet still here I stand,
One suffering long.