In every realm of myself--
I doubt.
Voice-clouds congregate
And roar in the sky-space
of my mind.

Searing, jagged, electric
My mind’s words cut—
light
but not illumination.
I am,
Myself,
the tempest.

The wind gusts
Unsure of where she belongs.
The sonorous maelstrom
Beats back any of your love-words.
I remain alone
And it is autumn in my mind.

Change storms in
Unforgiving
And unquiet.
I am,
Myself,
The tempest.

What can calm the wind?
Who am I without the wind?
Despite the clouds, I fear drought
I fear wind
I fear drought
I fear
I am,
Myself,
The tempest
I fear