I Called Her A Lullaby

She called herself a storm—

Lightning strikes, she feared,

would tear families in two;

Unrestrained power

pulsating through.

Clashes of thunder

roaring like bombs;

A violent eruption

masking the dawn

when her highs and her lows

collided head-on.

But she did not enter my life

like the pounding rain,

she came in

like a warm summer’s day—

like a cool breeze,

gentle,

serene,

caressing my sweat-stained,

sunburned body.

She did not twist and tear at me

like a tornado.

She encircled me

like a whirlwind

dancing through the prairie fields.

Playful,

with childlike innocence

despite all she’d been through.

The dust and leaves joined her

like magic unleashed

and I remembered

that I had locked away

all my childhood dreams.

Her eyes did not pierce me

like a heartless jolt

of electricity.

They stunned me

like the view one sees

when they finally reach the peak

after years and years

of arduous climbing.

When I saw her,

I collapsed,

but not in defeat.

My hands and knees

were scraped and bleeding;

My oozing wounds

were pleading

at me

to begin my own tending.

She did not blister my skin

like a ruthless blaze.

She illuminated my path

like star-strewn skies

revealing the map

to ancient sailors.

She crooned like cackling logs

thawing my soul

from the icy numbness

I‘d come to call home.

She proclaimed herself a forest fire

but she was not the agonizing pain

I had tried so hard to escape,

she was the soothing glow

of candlelight

that eased my shame.

In her darkness I found acceptance

as I knew it was okay

to finally let my armour

crack and fall away.

She called herself a storm—

A force of destruction

that flattens cities

and topples homes

yet she failed to say

how storms clear the way

for new growth.

She thought she needed warning labels,

that staying small

kept others safe;

but when my eyes at last

beheld her

the storms inside me ceased

and I knew that my dreams—

that Peace—

were no longer

out of reach.