Lightning…

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Lightning

Pure energy. Raw, angry, flashing across the night sky

Like a child throwing its toys from the pram

Lightning cannot be held, not even in a bottle.

I feel it in me, a part of me, the anger

Pouring blue lightning from my fingertips

That beautiful flash of sky painting

Gone in a millisecond.

Yet the image remains on the back of my eyes

A moment longer. A memory for me to keep.

I feel energised, ready to take on anything.

The storm continues

Painting pictures across the black clouds

Veins from a dying leaf

Roots from a dead tree

Finely feathered fingers of a butterfly’s wing.

All this magic from two clouds colliding energy

Drawn from Earth, meets that from above

Thunder like the beat of a thousand drums

Fills my body with pure sound.

After the storm, magic can still be found

In the silence that remains…

Anita Dawes

4 thoughts on “Lightning…

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