Grey storm clouds
of divine wrath
converge
a lightening bolt
precisely hits
to the heart
into the blood
and nerves
out to an
electrical graph.
A thunder clap of
direct messaging
that shakes the
foundation.
They will have
their way
The Way
or else silence.
Was it enough
to penetrate
thick stubbornness
that hides cowardice
that masks as hatred
mistrust and disdain
when it is in fact
love?
The indulgent comfort of
a self made
chained prison
of fetid
familiarity
postulating piety
but it is not
yet.
Their punishment
for keeping a lover
that they
did not intend.
Photo by Max LaRochelle on Unsplash
Dawn Boiani 