Thursday, November 12, 2015

After the Storm

(This one relates to Tuesday's poem. Thankfully not the situation today!)

A good storm clears the air--
   The torrents wipe away the filth,
   The thunder sings in the ears,
   Lightening opens the eyes,
   Truth is revealed and we revel. 
But not all storms are good--
   When the winds wrench
   And the floods ruin,
   We are left bereft
   With more work than before. 
Which storms are ours, my child?
   You rail, wail, and resist,
   While I fight to hold tight.
   Afterward I am spent and bent
   Yet your are transformed and mild.

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