The storm and I

                                                        I stood in the Storm 

I stood in the storm as it hurried by,

Wondering why, O why it passed me by.

I stood in place, but I ran after it.

Catching up with it, I asked it why,

Why, O why it passed me by.

"I've devastated you again and again.

“But I'll visit you again before your end,”

As it whirled on past me around the bend.

   

                                       I hoped the onlookers would apprehend. 

I stood on my ground and began to pray

For those who didn’t know a storm was on its way.

I prayed for those who slept during the day,

And didn’t know that a storm was coming their way.

I stood in my place - in shoes full of Grace;

I stood there praying for the tears on their faces,

With sheer bewilderment that often effaces

 

And disturbs those unprepared for a strenuous race.

It is impossible to outrun a tumultuous storm,

Even if you can see the very beginning of its form.

If it's for you to suffer it, then suffer it, you must.

Some have a dread: "Something bad is going to happen.”

For the wise, premonitions are considered a buffer.

The wise don't get caught in unprofitable storms

Without the full armor that it takes to victoriously suffer

 

Whatever it takes to move from one place to another,

To come out into a new sun that heals, not harms.

I stood in the storm as it hurried by,

Wondering why, O why it passed me by.

I stood in place, but I ran after it.

Catching up with it, I asked it why,

Why, O why it passed me by.

~Mary Moore, 2014