Benches and Edges

Take me to your edge
which you say is so rough
I'd like to see the view

Is the horizon full of angry thunderstorms
commanding me to find shelter
protect myself from harm
run, fast, far away from the floods

I know how to swim
but it's not my preferred method of travel

Maybe I've found myself in the aftermaths of your storms
when the light and the sounds
are miles away
striking someone else's story
and drowning their dreams

And you're sitting right here
right here on this bench
the one we built together
waiting for this moment

We're sitting in the aftermath of our storms
when it's a light sprinkle
those big drops

They hit your nose and eyelids and
run right down your cheek to your chin

Our storms have touched every inch of us
and we are wet
We are soaking wet
We are fucking drenched
Sometimes we are cold and shivering
It's rough, this edge

But the thing about storms is that they pass
they are here and then they are not
they leave reminders, to be sure
downed trees and broken bridges
overflowing rivers and ponds

their strength could fill a million suitcases
and we'd have to carry that baggage for the rest of our days

They roughen our edges
They break up the smooth bits
They prick and they bleed

But they do not own us
They are a passing reminder of our fragile humanity
They keep us grounded and humble

And every now and then a thunderstorm comes and goes
We see our bench is still in tact
and we see our edges they
reveal their treasures inside

I kiss your edge
hoping I don't cut myself

We brace ourselves for the next storm
as the sky momentarily entertains us
with ruby hues and streaks of safety