A poem about chronic pain and the sacredness found within.
(Image description: A photo of orange lightning emerging out of dark storm clouds. A small, foliage-covered island is seen on the horizon, while the clouds and lightning reflect in the smooth water below.) Credit: Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash
Currents of the Storm
Coursing through my nerves,
there’s a storm a-brewing
one of many, teaching.
‘Tis one of the rhythms,
bolts and zaps singeing me
from within, its mark unseen.
Tempted to curse my luck
with the way this illness
limits me, like a weight.
Weak, useless, tired
my mind its own enemy,
downed and defeated.
I recall His own pain,
the loss and struggles
He must’ve felt.
Yet, I persevere,
feeling the currents
in Nodens’ blessed rain.
In the endless battles,
His rainfall cleanses me, despite
the storm’s arcs within.
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