A Passing Storm
I
resist the urge
to toss
everything from the shelves
I work myself
in a frenzy
and cry out
to the dark clouds
demanding the eye of the storm
to hover over me
to provide clarity
a brief moment
where the wind is still
where the earth pauses
where the rain drops stop falling
and I stand
at the center
of everything
and nothing
to regain consciousness
and shelve
my passing rage
between worlds
bound in fiction
resting comfortably
in a sunlit room.
2 thoughts on "A Passing Storm"
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I especially noticed your use of shelves in this piece. Nice
Thank you, HB Elam! I appreciate your kind observation. : )