When The Dam Breaks

by AE AR

I keep waiting for the moment when the dam breaks open.
For the wall holding back the deluge to just let go.
(And just like that, it begins raining in my real life.
Synchronicities, they call them.)
I do, though.
I keep waiting for the words to pour forth.
To overwhelm me with their number.
To depict the vastness of my emotions with a complexity that captures even me.
I yearn for that,
for the catharisis.
And yet,
when I earlier thought the thought that I was “waiting for the dam to break”
I realized, that is unrealistic.
Writing doesn’t work like that.
No, writing is something you must be diligent with.
You must dabble and dally.
You must meditate.
You must practice.
You must be faithful with the words that do come.
In fact, instead of being like the water, writing is more like building a fire and
words are more like the spark created with a flint.
Energy that is almost only air,
energy that must be caught, gathered, and nutured into a flame.
I can do this.
I can take these embers and turn them into a bonfire.
With these flames, I will light the dark places.
I will warm enduring souls.
I will incinerate these metal finnings left in my field
from former battles
and forge new weapons to take on the coming trials
So that when the dam breaks,
I will be ready with the right tools to survive.
So that when the dam breaks,
the inferno will prove the “deluge” insignificant.