cumulonimbus

I still shatter like glass.
in the shower, sobbing into soap
remembering everyone's last recounts with her.
it's like she knew it was going to happen soon
it was like she knew it was happening and she knew she wasn't going to put up a fight this time
like she was too tired and worn down for that fight again
time after time
like the moment i told her that joshua passed away.
like how she sobbed and fell into my arms
i never saw a woman so strong drop like that.
like my mother at the funeral
hovering, shaking, dropping
i never saw a woman so strong drop like that.
maybe it's because we've always been trained to hide the dropping moments
have our tears drain down with the rest of the dirt we've scrubbed off our bodies
like these tears are something that should be hidden
instead of something that made our muscles grow

i remember the cloud unit in kindergarten.
my nana picked me up from school every single day.
every day until i could drive that woman picked me up.
she would take me to get frosty's and fries from wendy's
and i'd look up at the sky with her while she asked me what kinds of clouds were out that day.
she loved clouds.
she would often look back at those times and tell me how much she loved learning about the clouds with me.

my life is spent admiring the natural beauty i live in.
but particularly cloud formations
and how easily they can make me break
shatter.

loss never leaves you
it's natural beauty.