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The Storm

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Below is the poem entitled The Storm which was written by poet Athena Beauchamp. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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The Storm

After the five days of sweltering heat
I look up from my writings
as the sunlight falters 
and the skies begin to darken.

I step outside and gaze
at the lowering clouds,
feeling the wind freshen and gust,
tussling my hair and teasing the fallen Autumn leaves.

And as I stand before the gathering darkness
I hear afar the first rumble
of the approaching storm,
invisibly rolling towards me.

I count slowly upwards, as a child would,
afraid and cowering under the covers.
One...Two... and at six
the thunder comes again, but nearer now.

Still no rain, but the skies
are darker, heavy and oppressive.
eager to unburden themselves
of their burgeoning cargo.

At four the thunder sounds again
and following the receding echoes
a brilliant flash of incandescent light.
For now the lightning comes.

I flinch automatically as the darkness spits asunder.
Torn apart by a jagged blazing bolt.
then suddenly it is gone
and the night surges backwards like an irresistible tide.

Unable to contain themselves longer, the clouds empty
and rain falls in sheeting waves, slowly at first
then driving hard against the ground,
creating a myriad tiny streams that spread, mingle and pool.

The storm is here now, overhead and immensely powerful.
Thunder cracks, seeming to explode above me, and I realise that I am afraid.
Apprehension wars with the intense joy and excitement 
coursing through my veins. I stand silent.

In the face of nature one feels so small, 
insignificant against the colossal majesty of the skies.
My heart sours as the heavens rage.
My thoughts scattered and blown apart.

It may have been a minute or an hour I stood there,
drenched and shivering and oblivious of either.
I felt myself slowly returning as the storm receded.
The rain gone, the wind dropping and the skies clear.

Was the storm the realisation of the turmoil of my heart ?
Was it real or just my imaginings ?
I do not know, but I now I feel scoured clean, pure, reborn almost.
I see my way before me as I walk back into my life


Copyright © Athena Beauchamp

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