The ancestors are circling in luminescent drops of water pouring outside my window right now.

The storm has come, finally, as the ethers have been waiting to purge these last few weeks from remnants of darkness.

Residuals of humanity’s inherent weaknesses and misgivings,

Cruelties left to gather dust, fearful of this purging that would offer a glimpse into the light.

I have been waiting for this intensity of a storm this morning.

Whose ions silence even the deepest of desires,

Whose aliveness beckons every ancestor awaiting purification

To be summoned to the front lines of transformation.

Wanting to run naked and raw in its thunderous pulse

Yearning to be drenched by its glory

I wait and watch

Until the moment an ancestor’s spirit reaches out and touches my heart

Letting me know they have moved on to another plane

Another place of refuge where the soul can learn

And pass on their medicine to me, to future generations

Awaiting purification.