Storm

You know the saying “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”?

There is no storm... There is no fury reeking havoc here.

In place of such terrible destructive forces exists a calm resolve. A quite reverence as a soul’s last surge for a mended heart looms ever nigh. This – is my life. I am resigned to view it as a heeling process, because that is what sounds healthy. But what I find is a muscle that having been used for the first time – knows not what to do now that it is in pain. I draw deep on the waters of life, praying that I am sustained by some power I know not of. Faith eludes me, and darker nights than I have ever seen – are now my twisted lovers.

There is no storm… Passing thunderheads pose no fear for me now.

I search the light beacons in twilight’s aftermath of knowing you deeper. Such persuasive arms that no longer seek me, distant empty gaze that holds me at a far distance. Was I really all that wrong? This – is a lover’s fate. For having chosen pathways of Casanova’s design you do not cherish what I esteem. Value was misguided and my faith’s un-forgiven rupture will plague me for a time. The wind brushes my face – I feel. Remember – the courage I keep and did not reveal to you. I was right, wasn’t I? To hide what I most valued? It lies like a dormant beast, you had not the strength to release it, nor could you have hoped to tame it. Understanding? I would laugh to see you try.

There is no storm. The clouds are grey, but the storm itself lies harbored in my gut.