I look through red, sheer curtains,
That flutter in thunderstorms.
Sharp lightening shows the dancers.
A world that can love and hate.
I can not feel the downpour.
Only thunder rocks my bed.
I ignore the white coat say
“Tomorrow is a new day.”
He’s a dancer. He can’t know.
Tomorrow is my today.
I can only watch my window.
A lens weak or maybe strong.
Where’s the electricity?
Please let me be burned and bruised
You don’t have to understand.
Just wheel me into the rain.
Give your hand and let me stand.
It’s a thought I need to heal.
I am estranged by a fog.
There is no fog with thunder.
The dancers forget their music.
Mine is clear and strong. Let go.
I will dance away the fog.
Perhaps dancers stumble too.
