Now that the storm's rage has dwindled,
I float face down in the calm,
my weightless hair drowning my face,
my view is reflective blue and whispy hair clots.
But there is peace here in the heavy damp silence,
do I give in to the eventless peace?
or fling the river from my hair towards the angry sky,
and fight the next storm its fury hurls at me?
In the wake of the storm I hang from the moon,
dress dancing curls into the night breeze,
the chill lifting the hair that rests at my skin,
my veiw is twilight blue and dancing hair tangles.
Here it is quiet, alone in the dark,
do I hang in the cool blinding midnight?
or do I press my naked blue toes against the dew and the dirt,
and reach past the horizon for the warmth that is just out of sight?
In a list
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Comments
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Superbly captures the lull after the storm be it raging blizzard, tropical, a squall at sea or tsunami ... there is that time of questioning as to what is best to do next !
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Very Good write here
Penned in such a way where in the beginning I felt sorrow and disbeliefe and in the end such freedom to choose such beauty
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I could literally feel this happening. The imagery in this piece is really good...very good job! Keep on penning
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YOur descriptions of body sensations and use of blue are masterful devices in this piece. A couple typos need corrected so as not to distract from your awesome words.
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