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The Man who has Seen the Storm

A Narrative Poem

By Lilia GestsonPublished 2 years ago 3 min read
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It happens like a spiral, a blink of the eye. I can feel it coming, sometimes. Other times it all happens too fast. There is a swirling, an energy, a chaos, and a tension. All the muscles in my body tense to a degree that I cannot comprehend, as a rush of adrenaline washes over my limbs. The swirling gets more violent, and I can feel it- the fear, the apprehension, the knowing that “it” is coming.

He can see it too, when he looks into my eyes. My eyes become like a deer’s, afraid of the headlights into which she is about to run. But by the time that feeling hits, the whole endeavor is fragile. I can either snap myself out of it with extreme will or I give in. Give in to the chaos that is about to unfold. Saying no is the hardest part. At this point I can, but do I want to? Do I want to shove down the swirling feelings that are pushing at the gate to be let out? Do I want to quiet the storm when I know there is a safety on the other side? This is what goes through my mind and in a split second I give in. I drown into the water that is ready to break the dam and I spiral. Spiral into a fit of anxious breathing, of pacing heart beats, and of darkness.

I hold my breath. I don’t want to breathe. I am already ashamed of what is happening, and I don't deserve to take that breath. Till I hear his voice. He sits there calmly and when I look into his eyes it is all there, the love and patience that comes from his soul. A look that says "everything is ok" and I let go. I take a breath.

It may end here but more likely it will continue into uncontrolled hyperventilating. Any energy I had left in my body must be used and my short shallow breaths quicken until I am on the ground, humbled, stripped down, and dead. At least that is how it feels. And at that point it is over. There is nothing left, but my shell, a body stripped of emotion and energy, just left with shame and sadness.

I can’t move. That would take energy. I can’t speak. I would need my voice and all thoughts are gone. The panic attack is over. I made it to the other side of the storm. The quiet peaceful side where nothing matters except the moment and being wrapped in the arms of the man I love. The man that sat by the storm and calmly waited it out with me, loving and holding me through it. There are no words to describe the love, appreciation, and embarrassment I feel when I look up and see those warm chocolate eyes truly seeing me. The man that has seen the storm and still looks at me with love.

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About the Creator

Lilia Gestson

What does it mean to truly paint with language? I always knew there was a special magic held within our words and how we choose to use them. Now I am discovering this magic for myself - through the art of the written word✿ My Website

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