Calamity

I was a house remembering the unseating of its own foundation.

The memory crushed the façade of emotional walls,

as the sand beneath folded in on itself.

The wreckage stood in silent beauty.

A symphony suffocated in mid-air,

as the melody began to soar.

The garden, now covered in ashes and rubble,

persisted in life, defying the devastation,

as if the rot could be sealed away.

The scene was a wound that would never close.

In fact, it would, in time, forget that it was open.

Until the light of a relationship burned itself into the trauma.

What empire of glass was this construction?

What bridge was this that stretched into emptiness?

What clock was this that had no hands to mark the hours?

What star was this that existed for millennia,

Only to be discovered at is demise?

Amidst the scattered bones of what once stood,

I choose.

I choose no fortress of stone, but of understanding.

I choose what remains, not what was destroyed.

I choose to walk through every shadow despair has cast.

I choose to vanquish my fears into the thin air of peace.

I choose to no longer tremble and cling to impermanence.

I choose to roar and rattle at the gates of Hell,

because I am scarred, but unbroken, afraid but I am whole.

Because calamity cannot find me here.