With stress of home

Rain clouds formed;

My head became a thunderstorm.

All these mantras,

Words,

Beliefs,

Filled my head

Like popping corn.

Until one day,

The top flew off,

Kernels spilling through

Forlorn.

 

Then black ink stained

Bright-lined bleach,

And there was

Relief--relief!

In poesy

I found release

From kernels popped

In boiled grief.

 

But comfort found

And soothed was I,

As words formed slowly

And coddled cries.

The bicker,

Squabble,

In my eyes,

Hushed by verses--

Worry subsides.