The Storm Within

Posted Oct 19, 2002
Last Updated Oct 30, 2011

It was a night leaning on the edge
with dark booming clouds outside
and ferocious storms within.
The lights flickered—
quiet for one sudden moment—
then heavy crashes shook the house.
Heaven was crashing
falling down on me.
I didn't run, I didn't hide.
I walked upstairs, though,
drooping, resigned.

My den was a mess,
much worse than the chaos outside,
more insane than the gales out there.
Piles of paper,
rows of empty cans.
It seemed for a crazy moment
that everything leaned away
when I walked in.
The books,
the pictures,
the shadows and air.
Unwelcome perhaps
but still my room.

Sitting in that chair,
lounging, staring, breathing,
sinking slowly, going, drifting away.
Another thunder
but I was gone
even though mine eyes were not shut.
Was heaven crashing?
Was it that noise?
I sat
I waited
I wondered, wandered--unmoving—
further upstairs.

Who could say where this was
whether it was real
whether it was fake?
But all was solemn
and I met a man who seemed
somewhat familiar.
Eye to eye, face to face
we met
we stood
and now I knew
that this was He.

"I've been meaning to talk,"
he said most earnestly.
"There are things you must know."
My throat was hard
choked in some feeling
happy, overcome with joy
but also fear.
"What is it?"
I asked
I wondered
I dreaded too, somehow—
somehow knowing.

"You must not dream those
horrid thoughts of night
those wicked, loathesome finales
that stalk your mind
and break your heart and
destroy your life.
Do not jump
into the abyss.
Do not
dare not
but walk away, run
go back away from here."

Shaking, fumbling, trying to stand
I wanted to fall, to sleep
to faint away and finish this dream.
A loud crash
and I was awake
startled, then sullen, sitting still
still in that chair.
It was still raining
out there
outside
and my quiet room
turmoil, I tormented.

"Tell me this!" I stood raging
"Why--tell me. What is the
purpose, I ask. Answer me this!"
But all was so silent;
no voice rung out
No book spoke up
nor did the telephone ring.
No voices
no answer.
Only the rain and thunder
and the tempest within.

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