You, My Storm

A Poem by J. David

I wrote this for you on a napkin, lazily, like a breeze that new the next storm isn't until weeks away.
A storm so vicious it will tear doors from their hindges, rip roofs from their limbs and flood cities that cried so desperately for rain.
It'll send lightning to earth, scratching its surface like fingernails on a chalkboard, erasing everything they thought was concrete.
Children will cover there ears and parents will hold them in their arms and pray.

They will know your strength, then.
Hot. White. Raw.
You will flood there senses and ring in there ears, soak there skin as rain mixes with their tears as they beg to a god to save them.
You will surround them on all sides and scream until the only sound they will know is your voice; until the only world they know is in your palm.
You are intoxicatingly powerful.
And they will know then that no god can save them.

I wrote this for you on a napkin, as lazily as the breeze. For you are as intoxicatingly powerful as the storm, surrounding me on all sides.
And I am as fragile as the napkin, waiting to soak you in.