Cloudbreak

I saw grey all around me
penetrating me like a dull dagger in the chest.
Concrete, cement, static, gravel
even budding trees and sculpted sandstone
sucked dry of all their hues
leaving only bleached bones
beneath an overcast sky.
I was wrapped in a thick wool straight jacket
or maybe it was a pea soup fog
clinging to my body
numbing flesh and bone
to the pokes and prods of passers-by.
It tasted like a wet phone book
and sat just as heavy in my stomach.
It stuffed my ears with waxy cotton
and put hand-knit mufflers
on the bows of violins
and bridges of guitars.
Maybe it was my foggy eyes that made me cry
but the thickest blanket was on my nose.
The clouds clogging my sniffer were so thick
that no sweaty socks or thorny rose
could cut through the covers.
It was like looking up at a midnight sky
and seeing no stars
no moon
no Milky Way
just black blindness.

Then, it came.
Cloudbreak.

I saw it first in the sky
looking up now and then
to see sunset flames
or a few blue hues
peeking through the tepid tufts of grey.
I felt the wind in my hair
on my face, my neck, my body
moving the leaves in the trees
to whisper my new name.
I tasted the orange of a cantaloupe
and the dew-sweetened green of romaine.
My nose emerged from its black midnight
all but blind after years in the shadows
groping for the scents of rainbows
blossoming all around me.
I stared up at the sparkles in the sky
and whirled around laughing with tears in my eyes
drunk on the colors coursing through my veins.

Can you see it?
Can you feel it?
Can you taste it?
Can you hear it?
Can you smell it?

Cloudbreak.

If you don’t fall to your knees
and cry out to the living colors
you still haven’t cleared the storm.