In the beginning
she’s a spark of stunned confusion.
Humbled by the abyss of her ache
and baffled by her sudden scale,
we wallow in her,
skirting the outer bands of her storm,
afraid to approach her intensity.
Her center seems a place that stings
unbearably and eternally,
where we imagine our near-future-self
But in a brief moment
of powerfully soft presence,
allowed to weep without narrative
and let go of the ‘why’,
we slip into in the eye of her storm
and watch as her winds howl and
claim every useless thing in sight.
We observe her wrath, safely,
from her tiny window of calm.
Suddenly she is mere sensation,
wanting just a gentle touch
like baby wanting mother’s arms
and its eyes lovingly looked into
while you affirm: ‘I see you’.