The Tempest of Rage

The sky was as heavy as my heart. The storm rolled in fast and sharp, as if it mimicked my emotions. Swollen, angry clouds rolled as bolts forked out; thunder cracked. The wind pulled at my skirts, making steps unsteady. Rain stung my eyes yet cooled my skin. It felt as if my clothing drank up every drop.

My legs tired from carrying the weight of what was not mine. I caved, dropping to my knees as if to worship the fury nature had unleashed. On all fours, hands firmly gripped the ground, my toes digging into the mud, I pulled energy from the storm. I sensed it was sent to me, my prayers answered. I pulled myself to my feet, lifted my face to the tempest, and began my own release.

The quietest cry was lost in nature’s roar; wind whipped in my face as if calling out something deeper. The scream tore from my soul, blending in with claps of thunder. I raged with the elements, the overflow of my emotions uniting with lightning and wind.