Context: This was the day my close friends mother died. Something about this poem is eerie, I suppose, because I wrote this after everyone had gone home and it was just a lightning storm in the sky.
The darkness has been lit by the crack
In the air, almost merciless as it strikes earth
In hopes for its power to electrify us.
The power dims here,
But yours is like a machine with wires to
Power every single limb that is your sky.
And you are in constant movement.
A hum.
A sound.
A breath.
You are a terrifying beauty,
And you have no sympathy for those like me.
YOU ARE READING
The Beginning To The End
Thơ caI've never been a poet, that much is certain, but I can tell you that it does get written. A lot. These are the collections of my poetry I've written, and some of them hit hard for me.
