Storm Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

The veld crouches,
blunt snout wet,
wind moving
across its flanks.

Shapes are silent
in the wind.

Clouds swollen with devoured
light mass
over the emptiness.

Somewhere an eclipsed sun
hangs in the sky

broken light pierces the eye.

In light darker than darkness
we must seek
the forms hidden from sight.

Shadows ascend like birds
images slowly uncurl.

Flame that would burn
back the flood,
speak now to be understood

yours is the darkness that burns
yours is the brightness of blood.