My parents are like water.
Both so concentrated
so powerful
so strong-minded.
(Bending/falling/constantly moving) with the current.
My mother is lovely.
Not quite a river,
but bigger than a stream.
Always on the move,
never staying in one pond too long.
My father is commanding.
A river all on his own,
comparable to the Mississippi.
He never flows with the current,
he forges a new path.
When they met,
they built a dam.
One deep-rooted enough to hold
all the water they fill it with.
And they filled it to the top.
My sister and I are the dam’s contents.
Compassionate
stubborn
everlasting.
Filling the dam to the brim, never spilling over.
But nothing is indestructible,
and everything can break.
The waters have never been still,
and sometimes
the movement creates earthquakes.
Gradually
the dam weakens,
its contents begin to shake.
Once serene environment now
full of (yells/screams/shouts)
Perhaps my parents were too powerful,
perhaps the dam was not strong at all.
Because now everything is loud
everything is cracking.
And with final shouts of shattered promises,
the dam breaks.
The walls collapse,
and its contents spills forth.
Immersing everything in sight
nothing is safe.
It takes years,
for the waters to subside.
When it does,
the aftermath is better
than anything that was created before.
Everything previously there,
was washed away.
The landscape is
new
clean
free.
Now something new can be created.
something that will not hold the water captive.
An ocean.
An ocean where many rivers pour their love into it
so it grows strong
and can stand on it’s own.
Perhaps it will be better this way.
Perhaps it will be better broken.
Now nothing is keeping the water captive,
it is free to move where it wishes,
unrestricted.
Although the dam is broken, it is good,
Because it allows for future creation.
I believe in Brokenness.
