After the storm, I look around me.
Bits of my life scattered far and wide.
A bit of my joy is stuck in my hair.
Some sadness got tossed into the yard.
My baring, which scattered like a startled flock
Flutters back to me as I peruse the damage.
I think back to minutes ago,
When the storm was roaring in my ears,
Tearing at my security, uprooting my hope.
Panic told me this was the end,
That the sky was falling and soon we would all be dead.
But I’m alive. The sky is above me, wide and blue.
The earth is beneath me, wet, but solid.
The storm tore at the house, but the foundation’s still there,
So even if the walls fall, I’ll be able to rebuild.
The storm shook up my sanity
Like a child shakes up a snow globe,
But everything will settle soon.
Before the storm, the world was ending.
But it is the storm that has ended.
And my world and I remain.