Wednesday, July 27, 2016

I Am the Storm


Who am I after the storm

but a channeled whelk broken

on the bank of a distant shore.

And who are you

but the soaring opportunist

who swooped down and plucked me clean.

Who am I after the storm

but a strung out string of seaweed

cast upon an island of unplanned beginnings.

And who are you

but Narcissus gazing at his reflection

in a pool of strategic plans.

I in self-defeat, you in self-enthrallment

so blind to poignant truth.

There are no random acts

in the order of the stars…

only predator and prey

exchanging a lesson.


The Gods have aligned with my thundering rage,

lightning tears through my veins into the purple sky,

10 months of tears form a torrential tantrum

drowning you in a tidal pool of mud and silt.

I thought I had no power; you thought you had it all.

But you are a channeled whelk broken

and I Am the Storm.