Friday, April 11, 2008

Born of a storm

Clouds meet the sea on horizons of fear
and dark the days numbered one on to three
that harbours and hides the immortal truth
from the ordinary man in the street.

And as I peered through the eye of the storm
the knowing of more spread fulsome and free
like love breaking through the shackles of life
and losing the chains of anxiety.

But it pays not to count the days, months, years,
or wonder who calls an end to the storm
when given free reign to rage undisturbed
until peace the end result of it all.

I stand in the midst of my raging storm
aware of the sun playing hide and seek
but it tempts in vain this one in the know
that for every storm there’s a better “me”.

The sun plays its games; dark clouds have their day,
and I surely am in awe of this storm
that shakes, rattles, rolls, a once neutral state
and brings a new dawn right to my front door.

And I heard it knock persistently sure
again, again, over, over again,
for a new dawn is love born of a storm
trained to knock and knock over again!
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  1. Helen, I have been reading through some of your poetry, and this one especially captured my attention. The phrase "that for every storm there’s a better “me” really speaks of life to me!

  2. Thank you, Connie. I really do appreciate your visit. “Life” is such an amazing thing if one stops to think about all its many components. I can’t say that I’m particularly fond of the “storms” but to know that there’s a reason for them brings a certain amount of comfort in the battle to overcome them or to merely reach a stage of acceptance. Here’s to LIFE!