Storm

The dark grey clouds, she saw
Creeping in, ever thickening.
She slowly closed her eyes,
Exhaling her frustration
And willing the grey away.
She opened her eyes calmly,

The skies were an ominous black;
The colour of ravens.
The bearers of omens.

Embracing herself, she blinked
Rapidly; her head twitched
slowly, then vigorously.
An escaped loon, some might think
She cared not. She must rid herself;
These vapours she would cast away.

Else her soul would be consumed;
Such as maggots on dead flesh.
Such as rats amidst a midden.

Fists clenched, she whimpered
For she felt the drops on her skin,
Nor could her ears be plugged.
She cried out, feeling the sting
As acid rain, those drops fell;
Blistering the pockmarked skin.

In despair, Heavenward she looked
And there beheld a Brilliance
So pure and white.

She could see the other side.