Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

The night of the storm I couldn’t run for shelter
I run into the dark funnel wanting to be lifted
Carried like a small child
Go where the storm takes me
Be in the place where it ends
A place nobody visits.
Where hundreds of sighs gathered after the storm
Carried by the last of the wind
As those on the ground stand and stare
at the devastation left by the storm
I stand in the empty space where it all began
There is no silence
I hear a sigh echo in my head
Nothing vanishes
The changing force will return…

©anitadawes 2020