One Storm Too Many
An old stool in the workshop,
scarred as the tabletops and tools.
Light comes in the window.
Outside, you hear the wind.
It is quiet today.
You hear the new leaves rustle.
You need this. The stillness.
You have survived one storm too many
and your fragility is showing.
About this poem
Sometimes I feel helpless, the worst parts of my life triggered to the surface again.
This one started out long. Whittled down short. And in the process, I found the poem inside the verse.
There is a difference.