These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

The Storm

Windy,
flying things
Can't get my footing,
near misses.
Will it end?
What to do?
Where to go?
Move.
Where?
How?

My heart flutters
Must string thoughts together.
Lost a friend in the twists and twirls,
but they're still alive.
So am I.
I think.

Passing fancies,
structured relationships,
home,
yard,
environment.
All need connection,
consistency,
hope.

Finally, a foothold.
Poetry, my gallant knight.
Finally, thoughts find a voice.
Cry,
scream,
sing,
pray,
hope,
JOY.

The ship has found a haven.
Toss the rope, and tie it down.
All rhymes and rhythms find a maven,
here as crafted words abound.

The shouting storm hears, "Peace. Be still."
The silence deafens much
as now I rest in lasting will
and words, that heal by touch.

The world of poetry creates a place
of peace, where I can rest, and think, and heal.
The silent moments fill my heart with grace,
where I can breathe, and pause in silence deal.

A cup of coffee in this little room
distracts from all the pains of this new Earth.
Just mollify with words to ope' the tomb.
Refresh the soul, and give it daily birth.

Each moment on this crag of distant view
I close my eyes to find some fresh new sight.
The words take off and find their course to you
to lift our souls and make them once more right.

The dark of life is lightened by a verse.
To healing balm like this, I'm not averse.

by Jay O’Toole
on April 12th, 2021