Friday, July 29, 2016



I step outside and see the lightning.
It is dry and there is no formal resound
of thunder only a pulse of light
dancing with itself among the molecules
of this steamy atmosphere where rain once fell.

There is no more awe of air
or all that happens above my pay grade
only the grave sight resignation
that much beyond my porch
is far from my control.

I have walked among both
the rain drops and the tombstones
I am touched not by either;
they have become oddities to me. 

Water, undrinkable, comes from above,
eroding the stone reminders
of a person once living
now decaying ‘neath the marker,
‘cept by etching, unremembered.

Such is my own plan,
to be undrinkable
to be unremembered.
My own nothingness will be
a solace in my soulless being.

The lightening glows for a moment
then disappears
I do like the way of quiet lightening.

© M Durfee


  1. Terrific title, and ending line. This is deep, to be undrinkable, to be unremembered. Yet every lightning is memorable, if only for a moment, and can even shape or alter a landscape.

    1. That is all true of some lightening Grace, I personally have been trying to alter the landscape of the mind while I live. Once I am all sparked out--I am good being gone. (many others will be good with it as well.)

  2. The next to last stanza gets very personal - i think our stones outlive us, or even our memories, eventually. lightning makes for an interesting option, it flashes, it lights the night for a bit and is gone.

    We had some nasty storms the last couple nights. A magnificent display of lightning and fury. I stood on the porch and enjoyed the show.

    1. I like storms in nature as well Brian, I have stood in the rain watching the show many times--but they are in my memory and most of those times have faded to a photograph I occasionally look to.

      As for a a stone to memorialize me, naw buddy ain't gonna happen if my final wishes are followed there won't even be ashes t keep or spread. What my stone is, consists of these words, and once I am no more they will no longer be of any import if they have done the work I set them to.

  3. This is very good. Meditative. A promise of peace here.

    1. I am happy Charles that you can see what my intention was.

  4. I can not foresee your soullessness; merely your absence.

    Great imagery.

    1. Alice there are so many many definitions of soul that they have become interchangeable. For some soul means spirit, others it means mortal consciousness, to me it simply means breath.

    2. I hadn't equated it with breath at all. Hmmmm...

  5. Growing up in CA we had, what we called, 'dry storms'. There was lightning but no rain. I grew to love the sky's fireworks like this. Wonderful post.

    1. Thank you Renee--I have seen those dry storms during the times I spent in California--they were teasers, but pretty cool.

  6. ... me like lightening 2, meouwpoppa ... but me fear thunder ... of any kind ... ya ... Love, cat.

    1. Meowmomma--the less you fear, the more you free up space to live, maybe because I am losing hearing or maybe because I have witnessed so many kinds of thunder that it just doesn't faze me.

  7. Cool beans. Peace out, solace, you know it.

  8. I am a storm watcher. Day. Night. Midnight. I sit on the stoop and smoke and watch. Thrilling.


So Walking Man I was thinking...