Storm (Three Voices)

1.
Whatever’s going on outside,
we want nothing to do with it.

The weather’s gone
snarling and snappish.

It has a nuclear tone
of voice.

It’s not safe in here either,
but at least it’s quiet.

At least there’s heat, right now
at least. Water

and smoke and liquor. Enough
to eat, books to read. 

Whatever’s going on outside
seems ignorant.

It’s not our place to educate
an entire climate. 

Someone else who knows more
ought to take that chalice.

2.
We stared into their homes
from outside. So many of them

had fireplaces but even the ones
that did not seemed warm.

They seemed happy enough
so it was hard to understand

why at the first sight of us out here —
whipped and stung, soaked into despair,

being killed by the howling
taking over — why did they

draw the blinds against us?
We do not wish our fate upon them,

do not wish to
displace them. All we want

is to get out of the storm.
A share of a drier way to live.

They cannot possibly wish this misery
on us, can they?

3.
Those out in the storm
deserve the soaking they’re getting,

though they are not the reason
for the storm.

Those dwelling safe within the storm
are not the reason for the storm.

All the time, there are those
who live above them all,

high above the storm:
seeding the clouds, fanning

lightning into full stroke,
adding thunder and darkness.

There is a method to
this madness.

It is necessary
that some be made mad.

Some must become lost in the storm.
They must feel all of it, suffer and die.

The others must see themselves
as under threat of storms.

The ones who feel the storm
must fix their focus on what they cannot have.

The others must remain focused 
on what they stand to lose.

Everyone must want to climb up
and get away from the storm.

A few make it but only if they take hold
of an offered lightning bolt

and toss it down into the storm
when they get here.

It’s how it works,
how it has always worked.

As for life above the storm?
It’s usually sunny, 

but we hear thunder
under everything:

sometimes, like sweet music;
other times, like the drums of war.

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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