Relative Revelations

No one is watching the rain.
I am prone to visions
at times of lightening.

My father is thunder.
My mother is sky
which he stains.

My brothers
are like winds

in opposing directions...

I am caught
between them.

The storm
is our heritage.

Our dark nights
huddled beneath

the roof
or our leaking

sins exposed

by flashes of sudden,
intermittent light...

somehow seem
glorious, natural

and forgiven.

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