The invisible storm-maker
It’s funny how I knew, yet didn’t know
how things would be. And I forget
that they’ve changed, so I must
also, just to interact
with the world around me.
It’ll happen periodically
and quite unexpectedly –
a need arises, but the usual channels
aren’t open to me.
Suddenly it’s there, all around me
like a thick fog, impenetrable – trapping me,
as I fight to be free.
It’s invisible to their eyes, those
who can’t see why I can’t just…
speak, be spoken to, hear.
Isolated, marooned, lost to the
undetectable thunderstorm,
I find a cave to crawl inside,
and stay there until the storm passes.
Gales of ambivalence
Tossed out to sea –
left to drown amongst
the other debris.
No further thoughts;
whittling wood
into curiously uniform ornaments.
Like a phoenix Kraken
returning for the haunting
with a fierce contemptible storm.
Though in the final scene
waves run smooth, whilst gales
lack ferocity – nothing matters really.
The Confessionalist Zine 