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After The Storm

[Poetry (General--not Contest)]

The rapier wind slashes pregnant clouds.

They burst open birthing silver droplets

That fall,

Battered by the gale.


Its bellicose touch hurls its tiny victims

Through the leaves of the autumn maples,

Like liquid silver daggers.

That shatter against the earth,

Until they run, thick as blood along the curbs.

Tail lights reflect and redden the flood.


Dawn arrives to witness,

Streets strewn with branches,

Soaked and sodden litter,

Heaped in silent streets.

An aftermath of upheaval.

Fragile stems stripped away.

Only the strongest survive

And cling tenaciously to life.


The midnight of our souls has passed.

Our hearts still beat within our chests.

Our lungs still breathe the viscous air,

And in our minds the tempest fades,

Into a shadowed memory.


We are truncated and transformed.


We rise,

Pared and peeled.

Only our essence remains.

We shine,

Polished by the maelstrom.

Pruned and perfected.

We wept once,

Gushing gales of tears,

Grieving uncountable losses.

We sing now,

And hail the open heavens,

Arms raised in rapture.

We welcome,

Sunlight that reveals our mercurial quintessence.

Our spirits radiant,

We stand,

Side by side,

Tested and tempered through affliction,


Altered, clean and potent,

Quivering and lustrous as quicksilver.

Each entranced by the others beauty.


Beautifully told, as always, ken.
Dec 31, 2013