The Storm

I feel the storm coming.
Dark clouds devouring the clear blue sky,
heavy humidity pressing down on the landscape.

What once was a day full of promise and beauty,
is now to be spent inside.
The sun's healing light will be halted,
the twittering of birdsong silenced.
Now there is only darkness,
shrieking and groaning among the heavens,
and whimpers of frightened children.

I'm not a child anymore.
I haven't been one for a long time.
But I can't shake that weight,
forever pressing down upon my back and shoulders,
loading me down with thoughts and worries,
paralyzing me with the grand scheme of to-do's, debts, and expectations.

With brilliant flashes,
fears leap out at me,
with claws at the ready,
eager to tear me into pieces.
Their roars chase me around my brainscape.
Nowhere seems safe
and the rain will drown me,
if I can't find higher ground.

This storm seems never-ending.
There is no longer any silence,
only raging thunder.
It screams in my ears,
deafening me to everything positive.

I can only huddle here,
praying for a ray of healing light,
and an end to this eternal storm.