The Rising

A storm is coming–
I can feel the rumbling deep
Inside. Terrified but elated,
Breath baited, I await it. Eye to the sky,
Ear to the ground; the fear of drowning
Consumes me, overtakes me, shakes me
To the very core, but
I cannot flee. The half of me that
Wants to run is all outdone by the other half that
Wants to stand and watch the surge
Engulf the land and urge the tide
Upon the hills. Where it wills,
It makes a way. It will not stay. I feel
The spray; it’s coming now!
I bow, at bay.