Lightning scars the velvet sky with white hot fissures of electric fire,
Its flashes cast a glow - illuminated veins scattered through sapphire.
And tension coils through crooked trees as leaves shiver and shake,
It pulses pain, speaking to my thoughts and that nagging inner ache.
Like a crack of a whip, roaring thunder triggers mountain peaks to tremble,
Through valleys it echoes, a rumbling bellow declaring a rhapsody post amble.
It screams of all my frustrations and anger, raging across the earth,
Sings my silence into song, giving voice to the unsaid in a sort of rebirth.
Rain falls like glitter, gently cascading down, escaping from their caverns above,
Its tepid drops coating my lashes’ fringe, caressing lids closed lazily in love.
Tumbling down balmy skin, a trickling traverse through raised capillary hairs of my arm,
And buoyant humidity engulfs, thick and heavy, as comforting as an old school marm.
Sunbeams pierce through dark clouds, rays like fingers reaching out long,
And the birds emerge from hiding to continue their serenade, that melodic song.
The storm knows and carries the burden of being wild,
It doesn’t pretend to be anything, no feigning to be small or mild.
There is curing in its chaos, forgiveness in how it forms,
Is it just me, or does everyone feel cleansed by storms?