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The Storm
The Storm assaults us.
Destroying my spirit
My calm.
Stalling our future.
The Road is dangerous.
Have to move slowly.
It gives time to think.
I don't want to think.
Will it end?
People say:
You have to give it time.
All things pass with time.
I'm forced to wait,
to wait for peace.
I press forward, painfully slow.
Constantly berattled
Dirty water trying to seep in.
But there's warmth within my shelter
and laughter, and smiles,
to distract me from the brewing madness all around.
I see sunshine!
In the very far distance
A single ray in the small void of oppression.
It's there, out there
I can't move any faster,
But I know it is there.
