Thunderstorm of the Soul
My screams are caught in my throat
Nowhere to escape this prison
Emotions don’t allow me access
I stand alone on a street without a name
My whispers of pain just echo in silence
Thunder pounds inside my head
Lighting sears the color of my eyes
The rain pelts against my broken soul
I can’t go back —
I just want to be that little girl
She hugs me and says, it’s gonna be alright
But as I stand alone, soaked to my bones,
And no more tears to give…
I wonder
___Katie Beth Cummins
Poetry of Rain
I noticed the young girl standing on the porch watching the rain pouring down. Unsure of whether I should approach her and disrupt her solitude, I took the risk and sauntered nonchalantly up to the steps. When I reached her, I caught the soothing sound of poetry being quoted beneath the splatter of raindrops.
“Who wrote those beautiful words,” I asked?
“Just a girl I know,” she stated quietly.
“She must be quite the writer,” I replied.
“Really? You really think so?” I mean, “yes, maybe, I don’t know…” as she quickly dropped her head.
As I walked away, I could see her beaming with a glint of hope in her eyes. Instantly, it confirmed for me that she had written those words moments before while contemplating why life often felt meaningless.