Listen to the Song in the Audio ↑
Read the Story Behind It ↓
Like so many who watched the fires devour the hills and houses of Los Angeles, I wept. Though part of me held on tightly to the silver-linings that I know (from experience) always come from disastrous new beginnings, immense grief, helplessness, and fear persisted with the winds who swept over the landscape like dragon’s breath.
Desperate for something to give, something to soothe, I walked with my dog (only two mornings after the blazes began), where I was met by a long-lost friend: the Clouds. It was welcome arrival after a dry winter of droopy leaves and crispy grasses, as the only rain that came for months teased in misty rations.
Deep sighs of relief came as the colors were muted by the gray, and the sharp sky softened into pillows that seemed to say: You can rest now, my love.
It reminded me of the times that I had to flee from the fires that hit my own community. I remembered how sadness stays at bay as long as adrenaline’s flowing, but in the moments that I laid down, sorrow began flooding.
Now, under the pillow of the clouds, I imagined those who fought and fled finally able to rest their heads. I imagined them cool and covered by a gentle gray weather; I imagined the relief of a loving shelter.
Then, as if the sky seemed to say “It’s ok to pour out your grief today” the clouds began to trickle. Slick and shiny, I let myself be watered; and as the drizzle turned to drops, I absorbed the cloud-cover.
Finally full-brimming, I wrote this lullaby to share the soft pillow that’s offered by the sky.
May this grief rest within the care of loving eyes.
If you’d like to join me in sending water-color clouds to kindly cool the fires of this life, here’s a link to creating them:
