Poetry

Storm- by me

How can you die, but yet live?
How can you live, but not breathe?
I have died many times,
Falling to the ground in the midst of many others,
Into the mud where I was trampled,
But I bid my time,
Basking in the sun;
Which a moment before had been veiled from the world;
And so I rose, we did.
We rose like rumbling of drums
Shaking the ground.
We rose with a vengeance
Ripping houses apart with swift claws,
But it wasn’t long before we hit the ground
And fear to people’s hearts
we brought no more;
For them we were dead and gone.
Many of us fell into lakes and seas,
Others fell into the great forests,
And as for me,
I fell on a garden
And brought life to it.
But soon I will have to leave again and start anew,
As this tiny plant pushes through the dirt,
And breaths it’s first breath that is me,
Me, a tiny raindrop,
Bringer of life,
And harbinger of the storm.