Dancing in the Storm

It's raining again.
The eye of the storm had passed over me,
leaving me breathless
to enter into the other side.
Now I'm here, behind,
because I was ducked back into the water
without a breath.
I can't see. Can't see anything at all.
It's dark and black, and all around me.
The noise is deafening, thunderous, whining,
like a black hole would sound
if you could hear it.
I'm so battered, so tired, so weak.
My muscles are quaking
in pain and exhaustion.
One step takes all my strength
I don't see how I make it to two.
I'm cold, always so cold
and wet and miserable...
and I can't see or hear anything.
The forest around me only exists
because I saw myself enter it.
And now I can only place timid hands
in front of me to fend off the world.
The Dark Night of the Soul.
Midnight to 3:00 am.
Can't see.
Can't feel
anything but fear.
But my body moves of its own accord
not even stopping to think
that maybe I'm moving with the storm
not out of it.
My head is bowed against the torrent;
wind and rain, mud and ice
all around;
battered, so battered.
Can you see it?
The storm that threatens
looms menacingly over the earth
like a void in space and time
sending me into the depths
of a valley so deep, so dark
that the only light, the only warmth
is that inside of me.
The only hope is the little light
the little candle flame,
the little coal
that sits inside my heart
like a golden promise
or a memory
of better days.
But that promise is what drives me
it gives me the strength
the power
to put one weary foot
before the other
on my way
out of this forest
this valley, the storm
into the golden fields
that are promised:
my place of rest.
I yearn for those hills
where milk and honey
wave to me from the grasses
where the warmth of the sun
soaks into my skin
to the depths of my soul.
Where the tent is a welcome shade
of rest that calms,
oh, the sheepskin tent.
So I place one weary foot
before the other
and walk on
hands timid
head bent
into the wall of water
into the wind
and the storm.
For the warmth inside me whispers
"Yet, yet shall there be rest
yet shall there be peace
yet shall there be a time
when my voice
will be as clear to you as day
and as warm as the sun
and I shall come
and visit with you
in the sheepskin tent
of communion.
Yet there shall be this time
and we shall dance
together
in Abelmeholah
the meadow of the dance
because this trial
will have strengthened your legs
your body
so that you can
bear to dance with me
as I sing over you
with joy."
And so I put one weary foot
before the other
my chest warm
with the promise.
And the wind howls
the water stings
and the earth moves
beneath me
but I accept it
with arms outstretched
as I let it take me where it will;
dancing in the storm
so that I may have the privilege
of dancing without,
in Abelmeholah
with my God, my King.

--MovingGirl