by Caitlin Eha
I am the storm
Inside, I cannot
Be still—the wind
Fights, tears at me
Battering, blinding
The rain falls, flies
In my face, like
Bullets, biting.
The lightning courses
Through me—power
Rising up, striking out
Electricity—is it
Hurting, or healing
Clouds covering, their
Darkness smothering
Light, dark—lightning, cloud.
Storms destroy, and
Storms erase, but
Then I could be
Remade, reformed
When the old has been
Washed away, cleaned
And then I would be
Purified by fire, air, and water.
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing