Storms of the Soul
From whence come these tears,
that flow upon my cheeks?
I touch my face and my hand
comes away with wetness. I taste,
and their saltiness surprises me,
catching me unaware, and filled
with a depth of pain I did not know
was anywhere about but a moment ago.
Why does my heart cry out?
Despair coiling around it tightly,
squeezing in upon a darkness
I did not know was there? I howl,
lifting my head to sister moon,
which aches in its spinning, and yet,
I look upon the starry night, amazed,
at its calmness from what nestles,
crying out from a bruised soul...
She comes to me, eyes twirling,
smoke wafting from her nostrils.
Anger glowing from her like an aura
around the sun of her shining.
I listen to her special voice,
as she roars her impatience, with my
lost and spinning mind, taking all
my sorrow and eating it voraciously.
I look up into her coloured eyes,
my head hung in shame at my failure
to listen to her voice and guidance.
Lifting my spirit soaring upon wings
o'er no troubled rivers, down below
questing over the mountaintop, I stop,
catching my breath at the dawning there.
Turning, I smile at her, heart rising,
ready to battle anew upon the morrow
and slay the darkness eating at my soul.
© 1995 Terry Schorer/Quelonzia
