Turmoil

I twirl my hair
Around my tiny finger
Clouds move in
Dark and angry
Rainfalls, pounding its wet fists
Against my skin.
My long summer's dress clings
Showing every curve and flaw
My feet become paperweights;

I cry for mercy but my voice is drowned
By an angry sky
My heart beats like a tribal drum;
I gasp for breath, but the air is absent.
Finally, I collapse into the muddy water
Jagged rocks pierce my skin like glass
There is no pain

Slowly the storm ceases
The cool September moon
Peers out through cloud-covered stars
And I close my eyes.

© 1998 Destiny Alexandria Mitchell

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