As the dark clouds roll in, and all hope disappears from sight, and the bright sun goes away, leaving every heart filled with fright. And all hope and virtue disappears from sight, making even the kindest things seem filled with blight; and the cold rain pouring down, cutting through us through the night. In desperation searching; nothing to find it seems though we might, continue pushing though nothing we do is right.
Drenched and sore and bleeding, empty and broken and pleading, without hope and desperately needing, some comfort though none forthcoming; the brightest day as turned to night. Our sight foreshadowed in darkness, that fog thick and endless around us, concealing the path before us, the level ground a seeming endless height!
That slippery slope before us, though level seeming to those around us, daunting as we feel it; we trip and stumble underneath it, that hidden weight we carry it, translucent and transparent, and yet to our soul we feel it. Sliding down that hillside, level, falling to the bottom, under that angry sky we’re filled with, nothing but empty gripe.
Stumbling and aching, slowly we come to standing, the ground underneath us turning, ever always turning, as if the world is shaking; for inside us the world is shaking, ever inside us quaking, sleeping even while waking; twilight seems closest to what is bright.
Ever inside us knowing, our fate for us, are future sowing, a future not worth knowing; for ever inside us searching, for a hope now lost from sight.
Then that flash and clap does shake us, the resounding sound does wake us; the bright and brilliant flash does wake us, incandescent and brilliant white! And our eyes do open wide, though blurry to the sight, of that beam shine through the sky, cutting as though a knife, through cloud and shadow and shame, and only the light remains!
Then the calm and gentle breeze, the warm and kindest breeze; touches us as we freeze, to the spot we find us standing, and for a moment remaining, for a new breath grasping; and we find us speaking “light don’t leave me, please!”
The Storm by Matthew Mele
Yesterday was the beginning of a new adventure. I will be hosting and producing a public access tv show named Artitude. Yesterday I sat down with three amazing, courageous friends to share our stories on camera. George Manuka, pastor of Dunbar United Church of Christ in Hamden, CT. He is also my pastor. Linda Bonadies, composer, song writer extraordinaire. Linda has written a one woman show based on her story, called Give it all Away. I recently saw it in NYC. I am so inspired by her courage and talent. We are writing songs together for the show. Matthew Mele (above poem) is Poet in Residence. Matthew teaches martial arts, he has an incredible story, great poetic ability and a unique gift of perspective. I am so excited to have him share and explore these on this show.
I am feeling very grateful, a bit overwhelmed, excited, afraid I can’t do it, challenged in every area, ideas are bouncing around in my head, the things I don’t know feel like a hovering mountain to climb.
I feel the importance of this project. I feel the largeness of this opportunity. I feel the responsibility which comes with sharing my voice.
Artitude will be about the arts, sharing stories, connections, how we build stronger communities and heal our lives. Here is the 60 word explanation of the show premise:
Everyone is an artist. Our lives are our masterpiece.