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
I’m sure a plague of locusts would look.
This morning I could see it coming.
A thick bank of grey-brown cloud,
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,
with a force so fierce
it could scare the dead.
But most often these clouds carry nothing
It’s my imagination and insecurities that have filled them
with grit and plague
they are insubstantial and irrelevant.
And instead of “not seeing the forest…
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