Monday, March 13, 2017

Microburst

The downdraft slams the ground
blasting wind down the mountainside
ripping words from my soul 

Phrases slap against my mind
like my hair whipping
against my face
until my eyes fill with tears

It stings 
vision blurs
and I’m blind to all else

The gusts die down
the moment passes
I am left gasping and staring
at the debris
strewn across the page














Slowly I pick myself up
gather my thoughts
sort through 
the scattering of words

A poem is released.

--Sasha Wolfe





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