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I Keep Dreaming Of Storms

I keep dreaming of storms.
And of the violence they contain within:

Blackened, whirling,
ominous and threatening.

sounding like fast moving
frightened freight trains.

I keep dreaming of storms.

Ugly, enveloping,
hovering, swallowing
sucking up whole
thousand storied buildings.

I keep dreaming of storms.

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!" ***

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."

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