Poem describing how it felt to be in the middle of the after math of hurricane Florence.
Eye of the Storm:
Storm washed clean
three hundred meter drop
into the lake of tears
and mistakes of yesterday.
Immobilized
by the unfinished
task
and
expectations
of
tomorrow,
as today
slips
through
my fingers like sand.
Outside the colors become a muted gray.
Inside everything is splashed with RED.
Yet melody softly plays;
a single light flickers and fights the encroaching shadows.
I watch in stillness
as the world whirls around me.
In the eye of the storm
as the walls beat against all who step out
of His protective circle.
"This too will pass.." whispers in the wind.
We find no comfort in the winds that batter us down,
But we huddle upon the Rock
and gather those we love close
As the storm passes over.
