Storm

Too many gloomy days
hover over endless thoughts
of how much longer
we can tread in this thirsty ocean.
Tiny bouyant bubbles of hope
glisten as we fill our lungs
only to burst mid-breath.
We are determined
to ride this storm.
Frozen pioneers walk beside us-
somewhere in our ancestral blood
sacrifice-strangled gasping souls
anchor us to eternity,
wrest free and tremble
valiantly bearing victory
as a curse, devouring death.
Perhaps the storm will pass
and allow us to curl up on the
sundrenched porch
healing
breathing deeply
absorbing
waiting
for the quiet rain
to begin
again.