Veins/Storms

 

Lightning strikes heal and scar.
From the ends of my red, red hair to where
my feet soak up from the soil,
I'm the blood you call with the plow,
with the bulldozer and the excavator.
I'm the cut
where you fell upon me, 
claws catching up the thoughts,
then pouring your own into me.
I'm the billow in the air
calling the sharks, calling the clouds, 
calling the lights.
Maybe I'll scar, maybe gush, maybe rust away.
I'm hers but I'll never leave your hands,
rain or fire that falls.