STORM CHASER

It wasn't the rain , or the breeze,
or the fact that her organs
felt like they were on the out side
that made her stop.
It was the light.
It trickled down through
the spindly tree fingers
and cast a cobweb of black onto her face.
The light.
It was cold light.
White blue grey light that was heavy in the air
as she huddled under this giant fairy tale tree
to hide from the storm.
The outside storm that is,
not the storm in her head.
She never hid from that.
That she embraced with warm wooden arms
that splintered and chipped.

It wasn't the first time this had happened,
it may not be the last
but it was another time
and she didn't see why deserved another time.
So she never ran from the storm in her head
but they did.
They cowered from it,
shuddered and shook in its wake.
Instead of trying to weather it,
to harness it,
to just brace themselves against the coming winds
they all fell to the shelters and storm drains
that soon became her past.

But you see,
she was bigger than small boys in all weather clothing.
She was bigger than tiny men in flimsy boots
that hid and shook.
She was bigger than most.
She was lightening  just searching for her thunder.