Thursday, February 27, 2020

Forty Days

I ran from the Lord — no, it is all very vague now.
Did He turn away like my new-found friends
when the tempest churned God-fearing wrath?
All ties were broken — accusing eyes met mine
and the gray green sea lashed at me.
The storm raged downward
through camouflage and defenses
gripping jaws and jolts
to the silent depression
by the nursing slumbering pearls,
yet my soul troubled, all the roughness was mine.
Caught in the belly of the monster
I lived its breathing rhyme and reason.
One thought formed itself, then another
I remembered the darkness of youth
leagued with brutish, defiant men.
Now seized, struck down, and darkness anew,
I wait silently in a questioning world.

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