Strike

The Strike


Blink.

It begins at the roots, rises up towards the sky, she comes as swiftly as she leaves.

I woke up one morning to the sound of screaming.

She was stirring somewhere deep.

I found myself shaking uncontrollably from its piercing wrenching shrieks.

She was stirring somewhere deep.

I felt it in my arms and legs and hands and feet, my chattering teeth.

She was stirring somewhere deep.

I stood on shaking ground, as the the soil began to sink.

She stopped for a moment, and I finally had relief. Breath. Just breath.

But she began again, stirring in me, somewhere deep. I couldn't reach.

The crying sounds of earthly pains, of exhausted weeps, pulling heart strings.

I tried to shake it from my core, but it was far far too deep. I couldn't reach.

The trees began to holler, the grass began to cry, into itself, the earth begins to shrink.

I woke up one morning to the sound of screaming.

It begins at the roots, rises up towards the sky, she comes as swiftly as she leaves.

Blink.