Sheltered from the storm

Have you ever thought about it?

Of course not, flowers have always been so basic; everyone can love a flower for its beauty.

But the green is brighter.

Yeah, but summer’s all I’ve known. I love… I loved… I…

I hadn’t noticed how gray summer looked after years of dancing while my cheeks got tearstained under the rain. How the dancing had turned into a numb set of limbs begging for breath, wondering if someone could subdue the pain.

Oh, how had I been oblivious to my only loving the rain and clouds just because I liked the smell of freshly sprinkled soil, regardless of my year after year aching soul that remembered it all:

The rain, the clouds, the gray.

Stop.

Have you ever stopped to watch the flowers? Really looked at them and not from the beauty from afar.

No.

Oh, but how about the bees that move hour after hour, from one to the next until sundown’s call, and then go home with bounty in hand… buzzing like a carol?

They don’t only like flowers, their being gives them harbor. Have you ever thought about that?

I know you used to love rain and games and singing until your lungs ached but it was all a mirage.

They’re gone… but not the flowers.

Everything hurt; gray, rain, and clouds.

You see, it’s not only the flowers, there’s light in the spring, one that looks like a dream if you just give your eyes a glimpse. How long will you hold on to the thunder?

There’s this sweet air that speaks of new life and beginnings, in the spring…

You used to cry like the clouds, a silently screaming set of limbs, couldn’t you shine bright for a scene? One that spoke of a lifetime.

I was very young when summer taught me there was brokenness; the coasts of Mexico had me learning about pain and I could never look at them the same.

Every time my birthday came, my soul tried to forget.

But then the year dived into autumn, how hard it became even with its colors; I began to see it as a bright but hurtful decay. Couldn’t keep on loving it the same way, and while summer was the beginning of it all, it was by the winter when I felt like I was nearer to see my end. This went on for years.

He lifted me up last spring.

He spoke, last spring.

So today, coming close to a year from everything, I wonder… what if I lend eyes to its light? Maybe it’s still Him, making it shine for me.

Hope.

From four seasons one I never wanted to see and got broken amidst the other three… I even learnt to sing about how it must be that time of year.

But spring… this one is untouched by darkness and everything grows. Maybe I can love this one better.

He returned me home last spring.

His throne He let me behold, last spring.

All yellow, flowers and clear skies; where one father broke another showed… the Eternal one.

Where I got forgotten by the whole world in a small room with mom, He took me in His hands; I love you, I love you, I love you, He spoke.

Where a world of gray summers, decaying autumns and dark winters wore me out, spring held out with its light.

Yes, I think I’ll love the spring now. Leaving everything that was, and everything I thought was mine… for this new life, after this new light. I can only hope my eyes get to behold, my soul heals after it all and my spirit can hear the new words:

Yellow, flowers and hope.

Clear skies call, He gave me the spring now.

– SFTS