Recognition of Urgencies

The rainstorm a ghost

in the vanishing horizon, engulfing

all that stand in its path

with an obnoxious darkness ignorant

to the lamplights, the streetlights

all light that stand in its way.

When you ask me to find a candle

in the downstairs drawer, I will

obey regardless of the futility of illumination.

Later when we huddle in the corner

of our bedroom, I will hesitate 

to bring up the issue

because the last thing we need

in this storm is a fight. You and I

will instead stretch out our arms

demanding our own moment of consumption 

towards each other, within each other

as reprieve, as understanding.

Tomorrow we will pick up what has fallen

outside of our home. You will linger by the door

while I learn to scavenge between the uprooted trees.