Wednesday, 2 December 2015

The Rising Winds

See the storms
feel the rising wind
carrying hurts
young and old
The trees; they sway
branches crack
Dead leaves crackle
Lashing down
the rain
it stings it burns

there is beauty
to be found
in the chaos of this sound

Rising wind
Thrusting paths
through tired streets
bursting in to
lazy windows
shadows loom low and
shadows of “truths” that
don’t belong

Grey, macabre
clouds fill sky and
No more sun no more
the storm has its way
Bringing to the fore
dreams of other days
Of times without plague
of grey filling to tipping
point eye’s so called

Limiting what was
and what could be
seen to be seen

New the lost dawn or
Lost in lack of light
to storms above, eternity’s

Call the boats home
For all left alone
will be lost

Ferocious the storm
Calling them home

Step inside to warm candle light
holding hands in prayer
as we wait for bombs to
for tumult and turmoil
to fail the faces of the
weary, weak and old

Watch the storm
Daughters, sons drop
the offerings you bear,

run to refuge, run
home for this storm
can never be appeased
hate is its menu and
greed its desire

Stay low


Cover tired, fearful eyes

This storm bears lies

Lies that destroy the world.

Torn the future
Ripped apart by fire
and rain
Wind and resentment

The lighthouse beacon
lost to ash and cloud

Call to home

In this storm
Call to home
feel the rising wind
hide within

This storm has no end.

No comments: