Poetry & Writing


One of the worst parts of the storm is to be placed right in the center. Even more worse is riding through it alone.The worst part of all is the wondering if it will subside, or grow to cause more destruction. Funny thing is, there was no sign of clouds or a warning from the sky. The rain started and there was no looking back. Just remembering the thunder shaking the walls and paralyzing me with fear. Crying for it to be over, but the lightening grew brighter. Begging for mercy but the rain drops grew heavier. Never stopped to care about the damage it would cause. Just praying for it to end. What followed, the most horrible clean up. With each soaked item, a stinging reminder of what was. Burned walls reminders of each lightening strike.Now realizing what’s gone and what will never be. Still alone with no help to pick up the pieces. Numb and analyzing the circumstances. Trying to think back, maybe I missed the forecast: weather on the ones. It’s too late and doesn’t matter now. The heavy rain has caved in the ceiling. The flooded basement has caused the foundation to become weak. It will take a fortune to replace. Pain, damage, fear, and nothing familiar. Only God can put things back together. Until then, the storm has forced me from home with no place to go.

by: Patricia Marie Gamble 2012


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