For Two Of My Courageous Friends

Before the Storm


Dark clouds above the fallow field diffuse the morning light.

A flock of feeding crows sense rain, and cawing, take to flight.

Are they merely birds in search of refuge from a storm,

Or portents of another flight, a script not yet performed? 


Beside a stair a bag awaits, a thousand dreams inside,

Of passions too long unfulfilled that, withered, now have died.  

Its owner sits alone amid the silent, empty rooms,

Her thoughts return, a thousandth time, to memories there entombed.


Then presently she rises, takes a final look about,

Within her mind the endless scripts, the nights of lingering doubt,

Have quieted to nothingness.  She turns, does not look back,

Remembrances are precious, but for those she will not lack.


She shuts the door and steps outside, to sounds of muffled thunder,

What fate may hold in store ahead she can but only wonder.

And yet the shiver deep within is not of fear, but thrill.

Just then a glimpse of white appears, above a distant hill.


She spies a white dove soaring there, majestic in the light,

That momentarily breaks through the clouds now dark as night.

Her spirit leaps, as inspiration fills her restless heart,

And resolutely she regards the journey now to start.


For she and the still soaring dove are spirits of a kind,

As now in unison they soar, as one in heart and mind.

For though they know the power of the storm now drawing near,

As well they know that without storm, no rainbow may appear.

lt22t lt22t
56-60, M
2 Responses Mar 12, 2010

That is a very deep, thought provoking verse, It altered my mood (something I think all good verse should do). If that was drawn from personal experience then you have a gift of ex<x>pression. If it was drawn from pure imagination then you have a much wider gift. <br />
I very much look forward to reading some more of you writings.<br />