Poetry: The Storm

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This mad storm seems to have surrounded us

For so long that minds and hearts are wiped clean

Of blue skies, warm bodies and sweet recall

Of the feeling of curiosity.

Fear rages through the atmosphere: we twist

Our words and turn our backs to a real world

Where love is soft steel warped by possession,

Where murder is a calculus problem,

Where all the answers point to helplessness

Where all the teachers ask all the wrong questions.

Fear provides our entertainment, our sex,

Our thought maps, our armored identities,

We televise our neuroses, take pride

In debasement, blame it on the others.

Every day I am faced with a choice:

Do I expend each burst of energy

On a hopeless quest for the genuine

Or surrender to cold, common wisdom

To accept good enough as good enough,

To view all I encounter as rivals

For attention, bandwidth and better than,

And accept the notion that one person

Cannot make things different, make the pain

Disappear, turn lust into honest love?

Faced with that old choice, I turn back inside,

For one answer requires a commitment

While the other demands self-sacrifice.

This is why, as the storm pounds our windows

With such force that we believe the sunshine

Exists only in our dreams, this is why

The moment our bodies fuse with freedom,

The moment our secrets find expression

In imagination, I feel alive

With possibility, I feel released

From oppression, and I feel the power

That must live in every stormy soul.

© David.malec | StockFreeImages.com

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