The Awakening
Skylight unshaded and yet still it rests
Dark clouds impeding the sunlight’s ingress
To many it’s frightening, but in truth the lightning
May, this day, the catalyst be
This creature I’ve made remains where it’s laid
I’ve poked it and shook it and I’ve even prayed
But out there the lightning, alive and enticing
Whispers, ‘why don’t you use me’
As I fight the notion of strikes from above
I cannot bring harm to this creature I love
But my every action evokes no reaction
A flash gifts the insight to me
For whistles and bells and deafening yells
And salts that administer God-awful smells
Should surely elicit response in the living
What’s left but electricity
So I fetch a cable, the thickest I’m able
One end I fix to it’s neck with a staple
The other end fed to the lightning conductor
The rest is now not up to me
A strike, the house quakes, the creature awakes
It screams ‘I need food’ and then its head shakes
I said it took so long to raise you, that now...
You’re late: the school bus leaves in three
I dedicate this poem to ‘owners’ of teenage sons.
Copyright © Terry Flood | Year Posted 2021
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