Before the Storm

sarah amanda jones

Lost in the clouded lands
the sky before the storm, before the light returns
when time hangs heavily and damply
the darkness tattooing itself to my soul
rise above rise above
reaching for strength
stretching out my arm as far as it will go blindly feeling
for another hand to grip
stumble, struggle against the snare
despair whispers, “there is no other”
and my tears track unchecked
even their brief warmth dissipates

*artwork by sarah amanda jones*

 

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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