Storm

We are but leaves on a tree,
facing the storm of our life;
We cling to the very hope
that stretches out before us;
The hope that holds us in suspense
and roots us to the ground;
We make no sound
as the winds of change
descend upon us;
Violently sweeping through;
Ruthless,
Uncaring,
Cleansing,
Seeking out the vulnerable and the old;
Our branches secure
yet wavering;
We hold on,
Twisting,
Turning,
Terrified,
Eyes closed on
an uncertain future
and a painful,yet thrilling, present;
We hold tight
to our beliefs and dreams,
with tears in our eyes
we pray
and next to us,
all around,
Silent screams fill the night
as souls depart and fall from grace;
As the rain ceases
and the winds ease,
we count our blessings;
Still attached,
Relieved,
Still holding on ,
Drained,
We feel the sun , warm , on our backs
and we gaze at those who fell
and realise
through the cries of denial,
One day
soon
we too will be
free
to roam
the footpaths of our fears.