Friday, March 2, 2018

Rough weather

An inauspicious start to the day:
A canceled flight, a child in tears,
A marital fight, and years of fears
Come rolling in, a rising tide of worries,
Old regrets, remorse and new frustrations.
How can we start again, you ask,
Or do we just press on and muddle through
The feelings gathering at the gate to peace,
Clawing at our coats as we attempt to pass?
"Think me, think me, think me!" They cry,
And each one's true, but only to a point,
But still they tug and pull,
Dragging us off the path and in 
To self-recrimination.
Simple misunderstandings blossom into war in this harsh climate,
And fear becomes a target and a weapon, guilt the arrow, trust, what shatters.
The family butterfly flaps her wings
And storms break out on every front,
Rain pounding down the lines, and wind,
Battering at the windows as souls struggle to remain erect and rooted,
Grounded, steady and serene 
until the weather rights itself.

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