Today, as it rained even harder
on my pitiful parade
of self-sorrow and shame,
I think of how you told me you were scared of thunder
A few hours once before it would rain,
And although you knew there was no sincere threat,
It scared you all the same.
‘
And I return once again to that great night,
When I just held you in my arms
As you slept,
And over us the skies crept,
While I held you just as tight as I could,
ready to take up arms again.
I shout at the skies,
How dare this thunder
attempt to disrupt her slumber!
I will kill every last thunder,
or die in vain!
‘
And I realize now,
While you were asleep,
I was just dreaming,
The rain for you was not
God’s swarming army of angels
rocketing from the skies.
The thunder for you was not a
mad, wild barking Cerberus
and the Devil jealous of our love.
Though I clutched you like some
selfless hero jumping on a grenade
to save his troupe,
that lightning was not aimed at us,
though I could have swore that it was.
‘
And you felt safe,
Not because I was ready to take upon them all,
for you,
ever-willing to play the hero
or the fool,
but because,
just like thunder,
you knew,
I couldn’t even hurt you,
if I tried.
‘
And just then,
I swear,
Somewhere faraway,
As I conceded defeat,
Thunder clapped.
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