When the Wind Blows

When the wind blows,

and starts from the East,

it picks up dust and dirt and debris along the way.

Forming it into a thick cloud that is frighteningly similar

to what,

I’m sure a plague of locusts would look.

This morning I could see it coming.

A thick bank of grey-brown cloud,

coming closer

and closer

as the wind picked up.

And so I fastened my windows and promptly shut my curtains

in an attempt to hide myself away

from the impending storm.

I often do this with conflict in my life.

Emotional clouds of locusts gather on the periphery,

churning

and growling

with a force so fierce

it could scare the dead.

But most often these clouds carry nothing

but air.

It’s my imagination and insecurities that have filled them

with grit and plague

when really

they are insubstantial and irrelevant.

And instead of “not seeing the forest for the trees”

I don’t see the blue sky for the millions of tiny specs of dirt

that I’ve created on my own.

And if I stop and take a deep breath

and exhale

blowing away the dark,

I would realize that

I have the power within

to see the clear blue sky

on my own.

I just need to stop

and take a deep breath

and blow.

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One thought on “When the Wind Blows

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