I, Of the Storm
A black storm whirled
through my shut window
swallowing me whole and
silencing my words.
It carried me everywhere
within its tempest stomach.
Something within
awakened to free me
as I followed the sunrise
looking through all panes
illumined by the bittersweet
light of morning
greeted by the festive
harmonies of dawn;
welcomed into the cool wet sunrise day.
(I wrote this circa 1974 after having recurrent dreams about storms.)
Copyright 2011 Barbara Entman Synnott all rights reserved
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