And of the irrational panic
I feel scrambling here down below.
While watching others who seem to be glued
into one un-moving place,
ignoring all of death's angels
brooding high above.
I keep dreaming of storms.
What do I see that the others do not?
Why can't I get them to move faster?
What is it that moves me and makes
all of their movements
so transparently slow?
I feel I am surrounded by snails.
Heated by my own anxiety,
I awaken feeling as if I have
sweated through a fever.
What do I know of storms?
Am I that woman who pointed
above warning everyone, every creature and
human she dared to love:
"See above us, now, the writhing
fingers of God. Run!" ***
Why
do
I
keep
dreaming
of Storms?
Copyright January 28,2014
Meloo Melissa A Howells/ Tilt-a-World
All Rights Reserved By This Author.
*** reference to an F5 on the Fugita Scale is often
referred to as the "finger of God."
