Tuesday, February 25, 2020

Hurricane Season

It is always hurricane season
In my soul
The violent tempest tosses 
My better judgment
Whips like wind
With no leeward shelter
From wayward drives
I'm a category 4, at least
But the strength of my storm
Is secret (until it's not) 
Though the deluge may begin as a depression
The rising waters always rage
And though I've tried my best
To shore up levees to stand
Up to the brackish waters
Escaping bayous
The floods waters brim
At the edges of control
And like the puzzle pieces adrift
In the back of my mother's station wagon
I'll never really find solution

The pressure builds
Threatening absolute destruction
When the levee gives
Will you have what it takes
To stand against the crash
Of fists
Rushing like water

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