As worry casts its tense fingers upon my nerves, my eyes look horrifically upon nature's actions. My eyes clench tightly as a fist, as the proximity of the meteorologist's voice calmly states upcoming calamity. Winds circle my thoughts like the desolate leaves on the playground in the middle of fall. "Why is THIS happening?" My mind shrieks. My conscious has no reply as mother nature howls with destruction. Suddenly, all falls silent. The type of deafening silence that is ominous, but reveals the sun, equaling tranquility. I am STILL here. My life has survived a storm and has consolidated my pathway from here on out. As I raise my hands up and bow my head, my conscious finally responds: "Thank you, Lord."
Spring Valley, New York
Poetry Classes @ Busboys & Poets
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Classes Start September 8, 2018