The gods remind us

A poem inspired by a full day of celebrating a life, listening to music, meeting new people, and watching a magnificently furious electrical storm at midnight: this week’s Project Create.

One Indian flute, played in honor of the dead;

A second, played to light a doorway.

Lightning without thunder, rain blown through the open window like sea spray

In the dark, heat gives way to warmth.

Sometimes the gods decide it’s time to remind us

We are in their hands

Whether we want to believe it

Or not.

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