Shun the storm
My mother warns
Winds bite and rains claw
Stand under a tree
Don't be tall
Dress up
Bundle up
Go inside
You've seen the trees
The flash
The fires
You'll catch a cold
Your shoes will get muddy
You'll die.

Children are sculptors of sands
Sands kissed by the sea
Not the sky

Kites soon forget the caretaker ants
Heads lifted high by the encouragement of wind
Which burns your skin

A child sprints through fields of paper
Cloth overhead with a little light to guide them
Softer than the light that scorches the earth

Did you know windburn is a lie?
A simple misunderstanding of sunlight.

Did you know the sea is the sky is the rivers is the sea?
A journey you cannot see.

Did you know the flash is an artist upon the striked?
Drawing mazes into nude skin.

I'm already sick.
I'm already dirty.
I'm already broken.

Call me mad, call me ill, call me a death seeker
But you'll never call the heartbeat I share with the sky
The way the rain kisses my aches and pains
The way the wind cools my burning muscles
The way the lightning fills me with wonder

Sticky sand squishes between my toes
My hair is too short for knots
I am soothed by the aroma of sea salt and storms

No, I will not shelter
In this moment I am alive
And if lightning would strike
Then strike me down.
I've not much to lose anyway.

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