Silent Pain, Screaming

Turbulence in my chamber, Seething cauldron, Standing amidst a crashing sea, The waves beat vehemently. Thoughts are running riot, A howling storm is trying to pull apart, Walking on a pathway fraught with briers and nettles, Wading through troubled waters. Above is calm and serene, Below is dark and murky, Saddled with uninvited guests, My home is in a topsy-turvy state. Dawn harbingers recalcitrant storms, The day is a walk through a clouded path, It’s a ceaseless tussle, A worn and weary traveller. It's a sea of unanswered questions, It's a search into the sacred book, It’s a dive into the unexplored unknown, It’s a tenacious hold on to hope. December 1, 2022. Pick-A-Title, Vol 33 Poetry Contest, Edward Ibe.