Poems & Essays

19 Aug

Blue Heat

General/Column One Response

We knew you’d be electric. 
The air was pregnant with pause.

We rocked and waited, 
sweating through the summer, 

thought the thunder too far
or not coming. 

White-laced clouds gathered
and we counted down

rumbles and rain,
the rising and the cresting and

the dissipating pain. 
We didn’t know your weight

could dislodge, 
trace from arms
to brain, veins constricting

until lightning 
made us learn to walk again. 

Six weeks ‘til our smiles
could rise to even. 

Melissa Weaver lives in Harrisonburg, Virginia, where she manages to tend to a steady husband, three small children, an unruly backyard garden and occasionally, a poem or two. A former English and ELL teacher, she seeks to be deeply rooted in her neighborhood, building relationships with kids and families who have come from all over the world. Her work has appeared in Mothers Always Write, The Christian Century, Anabaptist Witness, The Anabaptist Journal of Australia and New Zealand, and Transforming, a publication of Virginia Mennonite Missions.

Print Friendly, PDF & Email


1 Comment

Would you like to join the discussion? Feel free to contribute!

  1. Gledy J Marquez

    August 22, 2019 at 9:19 pm

    Ohhh Melissa it is Beautiful poem I can see that came from your heart congratulation
    I really admire you keep going and God bless you always love you
    Gledy

    Reply

Write a Reply or Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

SYCAMORE, MOON, AIR August 19, 2019 Getting Milkweed from… August 19, 2019