Word Weapons (Begun 2/11/2005, 10:27PM)

My grandparents came to my house.

my hands flickered over the keyboard, their shadows flowing over the keys like the shadows of clouds in the wake of a storm. the valleys and depths of the plastic nubs are the parched desert badlands, dusty bunnies scurrying in between the rock clefts and my thoughts pound the sand with the beat of a thousand thoughts.

They speak to me in English.

and so what if this rain caused the sprouting of grass and plum trees and the flowering of wild strawberries in lands beyond? the stormcloud was no better than the birds, the trees, the bugs, or the bees. it was worse off, in fact, than the earth it pounded unmercifully.

I hesitate to call it "broken".

because the stormcloud can't see the life it brings.

It's more like the sliding of tumblers as combinations are entered into a lock. Sometimes, they'll get a few digits slightly wrong. But the lock still opens. I'd give a lot to trade spots with them.

lightning strikes with frightening accuracy, blasting away chunks of earth; rain does the same thing over years, smoothly, gently

Because speaking without talking, creating arching bridges out of nothing but thought and tone is infinitely more eloquent than the most verbose sentence, and the least offensive. All communication is aggressive - it is a move toward another, to force them to understand you. But the sharper your weapon, the more careful and liable you must be...and the greater a liability it becomes.

a warm and light rain, simple and nearly ethereal to the touch, is most valued

So, as with everything, reduce it to its barest necessities for the purpose...

but don't forget the warmth