Maybe a picture is not worth a thousand words. I really wanted the picture and the few words to speak for themselves. Maybe I need to explain my convoluted thought process...
This house was dropped on the side of the highway by the winds of Rita. I am not sure where it was originally located, not sure how far it was carried. If you look, you can see where the house is splitting, from having been unceremoniously dumped on unlevel ground, I suppose.
The words are part of poem I wrote, which never really got finished to my satisfaction. Several years ago, a preacher said something in a sermon about how the wind, though unseen, has never had to prove its existence.
Back when I was still in middle school, we were visiting an aunt and uncle who had a beach house on Dauphin Island. While we out there walking the beach a storm came up and the rain was one of those hard pelting rains. I don't think I will ever forget how the weather turned so dark so quickly and how menacing the waves of the Gulf looked as we all ran for cover. It almost felt traumatic to me at that time, hence the vivid imagery in the poem of panthers and gun shots and being held captive.
Disparate thoughts, but still, how come the existence of the unseen wind is widely known and accepted and yet the existence of the creator of the wind is so widely doubted?
Caught In The Storm, I Stand
Waves crouch behind me and spring,
a panther closing in and threatening.
Raindrops hit and burn, bullets falling
from a gun shot into a New Year’s sky.
The sand holds my feet, captive
of rain and wind and fire. I breathe fear.
I am a sister of Elijah, seeking the face
of Jehovah-Shammah, the Lord who is with me.
In the unseen breeze, I hear Him whisper
my name. He calls me His beloved.
The wind moves as it wishes,
has never had to prove its existence.