I welcome the storm
she’s an old friend
kissing fire into my lungs
until I'm breathless
they blame her for destruction
but I simply offer thanks
for breaking down the clutter
in my mind
Thanks for taking the time to read my poem. It has been a while since I’ve posted however I’m squirrelling away working on a couple of projects.
One evening in the Scottish Borders during a break away with youth club when the air was glue-thick and soup-warm and the sky bruised purple-black
we sat telling ghost stories – not scary in the slightest – while the youth workers and chaperones drank cheap lambrusco from mugs until we witnessed the awesome temper of the sky as death-white splinters thrashed from cloud to meadow cracks booming louder than screams of tweens and young teens most of the lads and lasses ran for shelter in the bunkhouse sharing safety in numbers and the comfort of cuddles from terrified friends.
I stayed out until the last of us were told to go in – once the adults had took the last long draws of their roll-ups and regal king-size so i went and watched by the window mesmerised in the maelstrom of pines and ferns getting whipped in the nearby wood.
It took me a while to hear a young lass screaming and shrilling ‘we’re all gonna die’ repeatedly between sobs and falling tears as heavy as the rain outside I felt bad for enjoying myself while she was terrified.
One of the older lads said we’d all look after her and that – or the storebrand ovaltine the youth leader made – seemed to calm her to sleep and, as the thunder rolled back the bruised horizon gave way to star-flecked inky skies and a pure pearl moon she slumbered soundly while we told tales of nature some more scary than others.
Thanks for taking the time to read ‘Thunderstruck’. I hope you enjoyed it. While you’re here, feel free to check out some of my other work.