Late last night a violent storm came to visit

it called me from safety, whispering my name

the lake behind the house turned and spit against the tormenting wind

froth covered the tips of waves fighting back while

the thunder’s anger seemed to have no end

I ventured into the growing violence where

I watched, solitary, fighting emotions, pelted by the rain

a cold bath drenching me in the dark

seated alone on the grass, a few yards from the shore

with branches being torn from close by trees

the sound of wood being torn added to the agony of each moment passing

as lightning slashed open great wounds in the black surrounding sky

while fear crawled up my spine and screamed at me to run, but

I sat until the dawn when silence came, and knew I was not the same.

Copywrite Gordon Kuhn 2021 – 22 Poet in the Rain

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