Tropical Storm: Res.

Natural disasters are spiking like a bed of nails

Dead bodies dangle from the ceiling, falling from seasons like snowflakes

No stories are the same

Spread your wings, warrior

I’ll weave you a parachute from plastic bags that way you can jump from even higher

Glide through the air with freedom calling your name

Is that what he told you would happen?

Conjure a tornado of pens and paper

Like Dorothy's house, twister winds yank you from your foundations

Before you can say help, your hand is filled with a pencil, this is your help

Sign alongside your brothers and sisters

Cross your t’s and dot your i’s

Like hail beating on your back I-I-I-I can’t do this anymore

I can’t watch as you drink whiskey like water when I just want to dance in the rain

Pine needles stab me like icicles, cold and unforgiving

As I reach under the tree for presents that aren’t even there

My whole life is a mudslide and I scream like an avalanche but nobody hears me

So I’ll flood my body with this remedy

You can leave me with the rest of the corpses

This poem is about: 
My community

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741