She stood paralyzed in the face of destruction, knowing full well she should run for cover. But the way the wind seemed to snatch the air from her lungs, kept her in place, no, it drew her closer toward the danger.
The image before her, the one of the storm, was just that, an image. The truth was her love life was the storm drawing her into danger with enough gale-force winds to tear her entire world apart.
Letting out an exaggerated sigh, she took a sip of her chai tea latte and backed away from the image that had the power to evoke such trepidation in her world.
She’d heard the cliche that a picture spoke a thousand words. This one gave a full on saga detailing what was ahead if she didn’t follow her gut and cut things off with her beau as soon as possible.
Sad thing ones, some things were easier said than done…kind of like running out of the path of a storm that appears out of nowhere.
*These are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt August 7th, 2017. The tale is short and sweet, but I have to admit it took a wildly different turn than I had thought it would go. Nevertheless, one should always follow their muse!
Floating on the wind and crashing currents that I can’t see
I didn’t forget…How your touch broke through
Seared passed my layers
My flesh branded with your tattoo
Is the force of this motion
The shifting of my world is like a storm upon the ocean
Laden with the hope of the calm from peace
Driven with the fury that put me down to my knees
I didn’t forget
This poem, to me, is like a hall of doors. Each line has far more to say than has actually been said. The last couple of months for me have been like being caught in the eye of a storm. Not so much in a bad way, but in a way that makes it clear that I can’t bring the issues swirling around me to a level of order…not on my own Things seem to be completely out of order. The good news is I have peace. Trusting in Him (Messiah Yeshua/ Jesus Chirst) gives me hope. He is in control here. I don’t need to be like Carrie Underwood and scream “Jesus, take the wheel!” Nope. He has got it. Like a child being born, I depend on Him. But the process of the storm, and the swirl and whip of the “winds” can make a person moan with agitation. His work in me (in us) can often be painful, but the process is worth it. Birthing is traumatic. Growing is often coupled with pain, silence brings clarity. I am at the brink of something. And this I will never forget!