The Storm Poem by Isak Boyd

A cloudy residue hangs overhead.

Torrential rains pour down on us
from the kitchen to the bedroom.
Poetic silence rips shreds through the air.

We put up umbrellas and pitch a tent.
You on your side of the room,
and me on mine.

Hunching over and braving this storm
then the next.
Our eyes closed

The beauty of our souls,
that God saw and so delicately
placed us side by side across oceans
over and over,
Lies wilting under our own stubbornness

Anchored to the Past
and terrified of the Future
The Storm rages on.