Storm on Horizon

Rainclouds boil heavy in my mind:

I only wish there was a storm, so

That hell or heaven break loose

And pelt my skin with its slew.

But the clouds hold back,

Repressed storm fills my

Insides like a beehive. Anxiety

Swirls clockwise, without warning.

The swirling wind dies and fog

Creeps, seeps into every pore as if

Reaching for my heart and soul, mooring ships of joy frozen in the port.

Once the fog settles, I struggle

To move: vision’s obscured, isolation

Ensues, cold breezes through me—

Swaths of mist cling like glue.

Depression ends, I never know when.

But one morning I wake and anxiety

Drains away, the fog dissipates.