Today I had to talk about you. I had to revisit all those feelings previously interred and now the dirt is everywhere I look. Trust, trust I will sweep you away. I'm not intimidated by you anymore. Your pedestal cracked, then shattered. Down on the ground I can see you for who you are, you have no place left to hide. I have to own my blind spot. I have to own the impact you made on my life. You were a storm, yes, but I had ample warning and chose to stay in your path. I chose not to protect my house. Now I am cleaning up again. I am burning through your debris. The smoke is purifying like some ancient ritual, leaving cool, clear air in its wake. And wasn't she always cool, clear, airy. And isn't she still. We've talked of earth, air, fire. I am water. I can rush and roar and trickle and soak and freeze and evaporate and distill and erode and rain and swell and fill and fall. What can you do?