30 Jun 2016 – The Storm
This afternoon the rain came down –
it washed the streets and soaked the ground.
The pines threw chilling drops around
when Autumn shook their topless crowns.
I sat, protected in my shell
of glass and steel I love so well.
A square of silence where I dwell
as solitary as a cell.
As intermittent thunder crashed
I turned the lights off on my dash,
and watched as bands of storms were lashed,
illumined by each lightning flash.
As tiny falling drops of rain
streaked windows, I announced it vain
to count them, and thereby profane
this holy hour, preordained.
All silence is a spotlight shown
on restless spasms in our bones
and all the warfare we condone
in these, the souls we have on loan.
So why is peace so hard to find?
Why in the world can’t this be mine?
Each night I’m once again aligned
in Mars and Saturn’s troubled trine.
“Am I no better than the rest?”
I ask myself – and not in jest –
a host for all the news suggests,
infected by what I detest!
Another bolt, another crash,
as if in answer as I ask –
no reassurance as I bask.
I see! I hear! And I’m unmasked!