Unrealised, called upon yourself. At other times uninvited, unasked for. Never unrequired, you are the North Wind. Blowing in cold, fast, shaking loose the tiles and sowing disruption and mess.
You hurt. You create terror and rage at how you annihilate our precisely decided plans. Our neat little pre-decided, meticulously manicured paths covered with the leaves and detritus we had only yesterday finished rearranging. For this, we hate your passing. Blinded by the disorder and, on occasion, devastation that you leave – it takes us time to see any further. How, beneath the leaves, twigs and fuss so explosively spread, you have carefully rearranged much more.
Beneath your uncontrollable energy, you test our armour for battle’s we’ve not yet seen. You bring the world-as-we-forget-it-can-be right to our faces, slobbering and shaking its patchy tail. And make us, in the end, a little readier to dance with it.
[On a lighter note. Visa week has begun. The Embassy of Sudan has my passport now.]