The Storm

the storm is coming

the winds are strong

they weave their whistles

into a song

the sound of lamentation

the widow’s  lonely call

the storm, the storm is coming

the rain’s begun to fall

the storm lies over

the lightning gleams

terror in darkness

these fleeting beams

the flashes of existence

so delicate and frail

the storm, the storm lies over

the ground is raw with hail

the storm is passing

but distant sun

sheds light on wounds

never undone

for time cannot heal all 

some sorrows sear the soul

the storm, the storm is passing

the storm’s taken its toll