The Storm

The storms of our life are tumultuous, but survivable.

The Storm

While I was navigating 

The ocean of my life,

I was caught in the fiercest January tempest.

The sky turned black

As the darkest night.

No light could be found.

The screeching wind

Howled

As it ripped my sail apart.

White-hot lightening 

Struck my mast

Splintering it into a thousand fragments.

One hundred foot waves

Crashed down upon my vessel.

Threatening to drown me in their anger.

My compass 

Was swept overboard.

And my map stolen from my hand.

I lunged for both,

But

Missed.

I clung to my mast's

Splintered stump,

And wept bitter tears.

Another gargantuan wave

Blotted out the sky

Eager to have its turn.

It rushed down

Upon my broken vessel,

Completely destroying what was left.

I was driven to the depths.

Turned over and over again.

No way was up.

There was no air.

I could not breathe.

This was the end.

But then

My head broke the surface

And I filled my lungs with life.

In an instant

It was over

As quickly as it had begun.

Now I gently float

Upon a bed of salty water.

Watching a brilliant sun rise over my life's sky.

I survived.

I am grateful for today. 

Author's Note

Any and all feedback is welcome!

Reviews

[Harmony Lee]

I am surprised that no one has yet reviewed this wonderful piece of yours. It resonates with me. I love that you so concisely, yet nonetheless fully, describe the specific components of the storm in such a piercingly relatable way. I audibly gasped at the lines " But // Missed." I relate to the profound destitution of "No way was up." I could go on and on about the details I like and appreciate. Thank you for sharing. I am so grateful that you are surviving and experiencing such gratitude.