The Cure After The Catastrophe
With my light glistening on the murky water below, my tears,
They too flow. Flowing just like the rain,
As it poured down to the percussion of thunder accompanied by the lightning arching achapellas bringing both beauty,
And harm.
The birth and death of the day has passed and now in my lonely boat,
I search.
I search to welcome the ghosts aboard. The ghosts caught by God’s explosions in the sky.
The explosions that asked,
What? What now do you go home to?
Where do I go after this catastrophe and cure? This blessing of finally letting go and this curse of no one, no one to guide my light through these oceanic filled streets of home.
My mother’s words, echo in my ear;
“It’s natural to be afraid.”
With no ghosts to welcome aboard, with no home left to go to,
Afraid of the nature that came into my home,
My cure to this catastrophe is so long lonesome.
And as another day is born, missing everyone,
My light sails on.
