An Embodied Tempest Poem by Albert Ahearn

A gray stormy sky matched my mood;
its violent, tempestuous
streaks of discontinuous light
fired across a charged atmosphere
soon answered by thunderous claps.
My mood is not unlike the storm:
It is emotionally charged,
unrestrained and prone to tantrums
that spark an electricity
too powerful to be controlled;
and like the tempest where wind blows
and precipitation follows
so too does my angry blowups
injure causing a flood of tears.