Sunday, January 9, 2022

Sleeping Through Storms

Page 51 of my book Lessons From Nature: Poetry, Prose, & Photography

I stepped outside this morning and was shocked to see 
broken branches scattered on the ground from the trees.
I had evidently slept through yet another violent storm
which seemed to be for me the ordinary norm.

I listened to others who’d say there was loud thunder,
How do I sleep through it all? I still wonder.
There was scary sounding wind and lots of lightning.
I’m sure it must have been extremely frightening.

At any time, a funnel could have taken form
– the most unpredictable part of a storm –
but isn’t this what I’ve done with my thoughts?
Creating tornadoes whenever I felt lost?

At one time, I cried many tears while I rained
I wonder if nature had felt my agonizing pain.
I remained awake through all the hardship and strife
that blew from all the trees of my life.

The maintenance man drove around in his golf cart,
picking up all the debris with his conscientious heart.
Perhaps the cleanup process doesn’t have to be complicated
as I visualize dirty stormwater of memories being decontaminated.

I could always grow new branches of memories –
trim the trees of my mind and burn the scattered debris.
After all, I didn’t endure wars, tornadoes, or floods,
and trees will always find a way to sprout new buds.

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