Surviving The Winter Storm

Cold, dark, roaring thunder fills the night

slashing at the undergrowth and as

torrents of abusive power rain down

my thoughts explode into nothing.

Bitter winter winds blowing through

miniscule gaps in the battered frames

of windows that no longer repel

the demons that inhabit my mind.

The bleak solitude of the winter storm

relents for no man as merciless waves

unleash their force on the sleeping village

whilst I battle alone the torments of old.

Candles flicker as the gusts breeze through

the pine floored rooms of the silent house

while the groaning rafters creak and twist like

the knife that cuts through my empty heart.

Chilled air whistles through the empty corridors

the merciless tune that becomes the white noise

beating a tortured rhythm of relentless pain

whilst frosted panes provide a mirror to my soul.

Clouds, grey like the emptiness of my mind

gather in the hallways of my thoughts

coagulating in the consciousness of dreams

becoming nightmares in the wilderness of loneliness.

The dark, sullen, pervasive fog carpets the horizon

diffusing the light of another breaking dawn

whilst golden lights struggles to break through

to break the patterns drawn by winter's discontent.

The ghosts of the past must be exorcised from

the deep dark sanctuaries they occupy within me

shadowing my every waking hour they must move on

setting me on the road free from heartache and loss

Another oaken beam sparkles and spits, casting

fiery fingers into the morning breaking the cycle

of never-ending gloom that pervades my life and

snapping me into the now and the future that must be.

© Fergus Martin

2014