The inner tornado
Started by a whisper
The formation begins
At the top of the head
Pulsates behind the eyes
And drops down through
The throat, lungs, stomach, pelvis

Some twisters
Only sweep leaves around
Maybe a plastic bag circles up
Giving a visual of the invisible
Then there are the monstrosities
An atmospheric catastrophic force of energy
Between the earth and sky
The only thing to do is to get out of the path
And let it run its course

As many as one, to multiples
Serial systems
Or at the same time
In the same area
Because that area causes
Multiple tornados to happen at once
Or multiple tornados in different areas
For different reasons
Different versions of destruction

For each era in life
Has cause for a storm
All it takes is a whisper
Sometimes something bigger
The voice of an opera singer
A crown
A cape
A groin ache
Doesn’t escape
It can only run its course

Well, these are anxious times, so comes out an anxious poem. No real form, unlike a real tornado. We are all walking tornados. A hug could help alleviate an attack, but we can’t. So the destruction continues, grows, and is more severe. Anxiety isn’t seasonal. 

One antidote that I have found to bring relief is wisdom – precious, and mostly found in dark and hard to reach places. Requires labor intensive care, and grows very slowly. But it provides night vision, foresight, and stillness. 

Breath in a counter wind to your inner twister, and be still. It will run its course. 

IMAGE:  KEANE LUØNG 🇨🇦 on Instagram: “The calm before the storm. ☈☈”


Author: valeriemarieleslie

Poet. Thoughts. Musician.

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