It’s late at night. The weather screaming. Screaming loud in whistled yearning. Demanding to be heard. Tall twisted trees screech as the wind paves a footprint through it’s tangled persona. I see you.
I see you lost in this terrain. Your tousled hair run ragged. Holding back the danger as your determined voice shouts out in defiance. You hold your breath. Holding on. Hanging on like grim death. Don’t give in.
Show your eyes without dark circles. Show your world where screeching storms can depart to stillness. Dust your hands through calm places. Feel the wind rock gently through the trees.
I wrote this for a friend. She watches her friend struggling through the storms of life knowing not what to do.
short read, poetry, prose,