As the storm comes rolling in fiercely
All I can do is weep
Like the warm, salty rain that pours
Please, just let me sleep.

The sun, once so bright
Now hides from raging thunder
Will this be the storm that doesn’t pass?

I can’t help but wonder.

It’s dark here, though I search for light
As the storm tries to find me
I run, search, and scream
How can I be free?

The darkness scares me catastrophically
A storm like this, I’ve never seen before
Lightening threatens to strike me down
I can find myself no more.

As the mighty wind shares its wrath
It tares my hands from life
My grip loosens ever slightly
Shredded, as if by knife.

Shards of hail scratch like glass
I cry, alone, as I bleed
Until the sun shines through the storm
Nothing, I am waiting to be freed.

I wrote this poem after a particular session I had with a client, a tough but thoroughly connective session, to try and help me to process my interpretations and recharge my empathy batteries.