Weathering The Storms Poem by Alan Strand

The last time it poured like this
We were in Cuba
On a lonely stretch of beach
Huddled under some quivering broad leaves,
Shivering, wondrous and wet,
Holding each other so close
Feeling each other’s breath
On our necks.

Our hearts raced as we soaked up
The almost palpable excitement of being together
As silent witnesses
To the sporadic lightning strikes
Which display themselves
So briefly yet brilliantly against
Rain-impregnated clouds.
We wait for the loud cracking
That comes with the firey splitting
Of the Heavens
And the ominous rolling and booming and echoing
As the thunder resonates
A long forgotten protest
Over vast the expanse
Of a shipless and listless
Sea of darkening aquamarine.

I can still feel that strange mixture
Of utter awe and contentment
Over this show of Heavenly wrath,
An electrical slashing and screaming
At the Underworld
Like some highly charged
Eternal power game
Between Good and Evil.

We squat like two school kids
Trying to shelter ourselves
From the wind squalls
That whisks our body heat away
Into trembling foliage,
But this only raises our spirits
For although we are
But two clutching voyeurs
Caught in this timeless atmospheric struggle,
We press wet flesh on wet flesh
To stave off the chill,
The simple act of which
Leaves us feeling
Loving and warm inside.
We feel sure and secure
That this is one fire
That no storm’s rage can dampen.

We pay wide-eyed homage
Cheek to cheek,
Two thoroughly wet and cold lovers
With goose-bumped bare arms and legs
Being rubbed in excited quick strokes
Back and forth briskly
Just for a few seconds
Between expectant blasts
Until we re-find entwinement,
Locked embraces
In each other’s eyes.
We realize that
We are lucky to be alive
And to have found each other
In the sheer immensity
Of this lonely planet
So that our love
Could resound in our hearts.

We imagine that we are
Two loving souls
Shipwrecked on a sea of uncertainty
Left alone
On a wind-whipped barren beach,
So we kiss to seal the magic in our minds
And we laugh joyfully
As the palm fronds
Tease our faces
With repetitive and insistent
Splashes and patterings
Of sweet rain drops
That we tenderly and slowly wipe
With delicate finger tips,
And lick from each other’s smiling faces
Until our mouths meet
And we forget where we are
Until the next explosive shock
Jolts us back to the reality
That it is only our creative
And romantically adventurous minds
That had set us adrift
For a shared moment
Of afternoon fantasy.

But this rain today is different
Because it is cold and dark
And it is thousands of miles
And a million emotions
From where we were before.
Is also peppered with
Small hail stones
That sting our bare faces.

But we don’t care to let
The torrents of freezing waters
Futilely pooling to block our path
Ruin our run,
For the seawall is ours
To splash through together
Like one of life’s little problems.

We wouldn’t have come out alone
On such an inclement night,
But we were one together
Challenging the rain
With soaring and albeit tenuous spirits
To relish each other’s company
Like we used to.

We reflected back
To that magical afternoon
As it poured down upon us in buckets
And once again
We were moved at Nature’s
Forceful show of light and sound
As we splash-splashed ridiculously
In child-like abandon
In swelling frigid pools.

The water between the sleeping sloups
And miscellany of watercraft
And even the more open waters
Of False Creek
Presented itself as
A living, constantly changing
Frosted plate of glass
Temporarily and randomly dimpled
By the incessant
Splattering of heavy rain and
Smattering hesitant hail stones
Unleashed by indiscernible
Towering cloud giants
Puffed up to great frozen heights
By massive updrafts of wind
That were trying to escape
The sheer monotony of
Being merely the atmosphere,
Silent, invisible, tasteless
And without substance.
Is enabling life not enough?

You jump cutely when the flashing dendrites
And crashing thunder fights and
Beats the cowering landscape
With a drenching bitterness,
And you clutch my rain-soaked glove
A little harder
Making me feel wanted and needed.

We take refuge
Under a faulty trellis roof
Like we did under
That leaky tropical canopy of palm and scrub
And I pause to brush
The trapped cold pellets
From my thinning hair.
My skull freeze quietly dies away
Leaving me vacant and shivering,
Especially as a flood of icy wetness
Invades deeply into my shorts
And chills me to the bone.

I pause to remember more
Of that fine Cuban afternoon
When others fled
The windy onslaught of
The first few tentative
But sizeable rain drops
Signaling even the die-hard
Veradero beach goers
To run away
And close their shutters
Or seat themselves
In the smoky bars
Of fancy hotels
So that they could
Make small talk
About how awful the weather is
And where they are from,
Impatiently rubbing the sand
Off their bare feet
Oblivious to the building storm’s beauty.
They look wistfully
At the blackening horizon
And wish it away
For another day.

But this is no time to
Think about a far off
Caribbean trip,
For our run-pumped heat
Flees us freely to mix
With blustery gusts of wind
That thins out the ancient forests
Of their standing dead.

So off we plod and puff
Bearing down with a renewed
Sense of purpose
Fueled on by these memory gems.

My heart will never be
Dark and foreboding
As these storms
When I am with you.
I feel love, warmth and contentment
Sharing another deluge with you.

I wish I was back on that
Usually golden beach with you,
But it cannot be so.
I can only extend myself to you
As an outsider for now
Hoping that the glowing embers of your love
Can be rekindled
To a bigger and brighter fire
That will help us to weather
Any storm yet to come our way.

(For the love of my life, Carla, Veradero, Cuba,1998/11/21.)