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Thunderstorm This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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“Wake up,” it shrieks as it cracks in your ear and
You open your drowning eyes to the shut window.
You can't see the rain dripping off the clouds, turning black like the night
As it drops down from the sky,
But you know it's there.
The thunder told you so.
You open your window just a crack, the screen doesn't keep
The whipping wind out, concrete and hot boiling water
You smell through the tiny crack, and you want to feel the black rain,
Its magic cleansing your soul.
Without shoes you step through the open door, only to
See the downpour washing the world of its insecurity. You
Step outside and across the cracked melted porch, the
Pads of your feet turning black with the concrete as it swallows the rest
Of your body whole.
The first drop falls on your outstretched hands as you twirl and dance in the storm.
“Thank you,” you laugh as the rain drenches your bloodstream, cleansing you of all sins.
And then the storm stops, suddenly, like the pull of a knife.
It's almost as if all it wanted was someone to dance with
All this time.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.




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