creative writing poetry stoicism storm weather writing

Born In A Storm

Sometimes it feels like

The brief respites

Are placed in sadistic proximity

To the slow, grinding horrors

The minor key disasters

Like you were born in a storm

That has never ended

So long that you cannot

Feel the rain any longer

But soaked and shivering

Learn to smile again

Accept that when the lightning

Comes, it will be too sudden

A thing to feel, ushered into

Another storm





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teeming with implicit static

every cell singing the same song

the rain falls like

a benediction

lifting my face to the sky

willing it to come

my nerves are an orchestra

waiting for the wave of the baton

here, i am alive

the dog comes in

for shelter

but it’s excitement is mine

mingled with fear

who would be brave enough

to come along with me?

because this,

this is how i love

and when they shut

the door

close the curtains

turn up the television

letting it’s bland burps

soothe them

i am outside,




witness to the moments

where i see myself

reflected in the rumble

illuminated by the slash

of electricity against

the sky