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The Storm and I

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A flash
I turn my head
The wind chimes like an out-of-control carousal
The trees tossing, wringing their hands like a schoolgirl, no, like a widow--- wringing their hands like one separated from her love
Bare branches demanding reparations from the dark skies
I sit, sheltered and ordinary, yet a witness to this grand overture of grief just feet away.
A dark rumbling, then all of the sky-tears overwhelm their puffy barriers
Crashing down on the restless trees
Who am I, a mortal, to think I understand grief.
My cramped scrawl on a Post-it
Is a window towards the tormented landscape beyond
But with all of the chaos, there’s a peace that says
These things come, they go
The sun will return, don’t give up hope
The desparate, clawlike branches are stilled
The rain continues, but now a resolved sadness replaces wild teeth-gnashing and weeping.
My inspiration passes with the lightning, but it too will return.
These scribbles, imperfect, unfinished
Are who I am—imperfect, unfinished
The thunder and I acknowledge each other—
Nothing alike, but yet something connects…us.
I pick up my scattered Post-Its, yellow like lightning.
But then I rescatter them to jot down another lesson from the storm.



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thetruthawaits94 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Aug. 3, 2011 at 3:55 pm
Very good! from a simple, ordinary thunderstorm you came up with such a brilliant piece! One thing, this is how "desperate" is spelled. This was unique and wonderfully thought out. Thank you for entering into the contest! Great job!
 
imrighthereyouknow said...
Jun. 26, 2010 at 8:09 am
i absolutely love this! couldn't have been better written, awesome job!
 
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