No matter how much time and effort you put into elevating your vibrations, life will at times deal you some low-vibes. It is at these times we wait for the storm to pass, accepting and working through it the best we are able. This poem is born out of some severe migraines. I have learned through these times of tormenting pain, that migraines and other forms of pain have a root system that goes way beyond a physical affliction!
Red, orange, red- like lava slowly erupting;
Agonizingly painful, burning everything in its path.
It’s current sweeping over all, leaving nothing untouched.
“Hot” sounds it like ice melting in spring sunshine;
Lava embers sear, and when it cools, only rocks, barrenness and desolation remain.
My eyes pierce the dimly darkened night;
All is still when you can hear the hum of the fan.
Stiffly I crouch at the edge of my bed, while the night’s visions fade away into the fog.
Where is the little white miracle- washed down with water- that takes away all pain?
Will it work tonight?
Or will miracles cease to exist as I writhe under this merciless whip?
Lava burns it’s way through all defenses;
Pacing the four corners of my home, strength becomes a byword.
The judgments of this world show no empathy, as I wrestle to prove my presence in the now…
and my freedom from the relentless images of yesterday’s torture and heartache.
The world is like a vortex full of eyes that stare in wait;
I hear a voiceless cry in the searing lava of tormenting pain.
“This too shall pass…yes, it will pass”
But this moment feels eternal- when unbearable pain opens the locks, one by one,
into the heartache so tightly hidden away.