Modnar

 
You could be forgiven for thinking all was well;
for failing to read the signs
that a storm would visit imminently.
But against the backdrop of a curious calm
was a sense that something had shifted.
The sky crackled with a strange electrical charge
just moments before torrential rain
began to pulverise the buildings;
an urgent hammering,
while the wind howled in anguish.
We stood resolute, silent, through the hideous squall,
unable to take cover inside;
powerless to arrest it in its tracks.
Finally, the worst was over.
Hand in hand, we walked home,
feeling a change in the air—
a freshness; an optimism;
a result of a much-needed purge.
Unprepared as we might be for the next storm,
a mental record of this one will remain
inside the Box.
My hope is that some day,
we might feel able to look upon it;
to process all of the disasters—
to face them head-on
and tell them WE'RE NOT AFRAID;
all the while,
appreciating the calm
between.