Last night the storms
\ncame like marauding armies.
\nTheir torches burned the earth.
\nI sank into my bed
\nlike a refugee,
\nas if the warmth of my blanket
\nhad magical powers.
\nAs if the wind,
\nsearching for my body
\nhowled in anger,
\nand I sighed with the trust
\nof a child in pure innocence.<\/p>\n
Out there, in the blackness,
\na battle was being fought
\nbetween life and death,
\nthe rise and fall of empires,
\ntowering thunder heads
\nslashing with white swords,
\nand between the shouting,
\nthe heavy fall of rain
\non the roof,
\na voice said,
\nyou are safe, child.<\/p>\n
You may sleep.
\nNothing in this struggle
\ninvolves you,
\nor the small life inside you.
\nAnd I moaned
\nas if the whole eon of my life
\nwere a sad, loving fantasy,
\nthat would be over when I woke,
\nand the damage of the storms
\nwould be gone with the noise.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Last night the storms came like marauding armies. Their torches burned the earth. I sank into my bed like a refugee, as if the warmth…<\/p>\n