Raw Earth Ink
spit, mixed with dirt – muddy words flow
Until It Passes
I haven’t left this cave,
my den,
in days
because if I do,
the sky comes crashing in again.
There’s a storm
brewing on the horizon
and it’s coming closer,
closer.
Should I turn to my left,
it rises.
To my right,
it looms.
One misstep and
the clouds split in two.
Rushing winds,
a downpour of emotions.
Whipped one way
and the other.
Better, then,
to stay still as a mouse,
quiet.
Inside.
Whiskers motionless.
Heart beating, silent.
Outside,
it waits.
And waits.
And waits.
tara caribou | ©2021
19 Comments on “Until It Passes”
Raw Earth Ink 
Painfully relatable. I’m still waiting for the storm to rage again. At the same time my mind is working furiously to outsmart the weather. ❤️
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Exactly. You totally get it.
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… it always waits … seems inevitable …
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Storms come and go…
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Not allowed out for months. I ignore all that crap and go out anyway. 💞
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Oh this has nothing to do with the plandemic and everything to do with the consequences of interpersonal relationships. Something to do with the storm of irritation if one chooses to live their own life and make their own decisions because we aren’t robots. I wrote this quite a long time ago when I was annoyed with someone. It’s all petty.
(But I’m the same, I live my life as a free citizen.)
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Beautiful parallels with so many different turmoils people are struggling with – sometimes we feel like huddling deep and waiting for the storm to pass by, other times we feel like facing it head on until it blows itself out.
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It was their form of control. If I didn’t perform the way they wanted then I had to face the consequences of anger, yelling, spitefulness, or more. Better to just not do or say anything otherwise I faced the repercussions.
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Nice metaphor – disturbing that, after all that the past 12 months have given, people find it so hard to relate, empathise and not turn their energy towards the positive. Perhaps it’s the nature of the beast. I’m with the bonobo.
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It was a form of control. If I didn’t perform to standards, if I didn’t do exactly what and when at the correct time… the storm was anger and spite and yelling or more. Better to sit quietly and don’t do anything until allowed to. The wrong move could trigger the wrong response, you just never knew.
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Difficult to act against instincts though.
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Indeed. Oh yes, indeed.
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Come to New Zealand, at least it is summer here (meant to be anyway). Love the poem. ❤
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Oh you know I’d love to go to New Zealand…
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It feels so relatable to read this – and then so amusing to pretend it is all about that mouse 🙂 Beautiful poem and perfect metaphor.
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Thank you, I’m glad you understood this piece.
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Absolutely an amazing poem, Tara….quite intense….
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I’m so glad you felt this one, Navin.
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I surely did.
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