Catastrophes

..

These are sacred storms,
these places where we warm
our tattered selves; survivor
fires. We’re dog-eared, tired
and ready to unleash some
small thing from within
that just might rebuild
this broken, battered sky.

..
In November, we poem.

 

 

 

 

This entry was posted in Poetic Asides Chapbook Challenge 2019, scribbling storms, storms and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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