I have nothing to say; I have no words.

I have nothing left, here passed the storm.

It left destruction; no hope was left behind.

And what’s there left but to feel helpless.


The grey clouds filled the sky; they won.

And for the very first time, I feel alone.

My strongest pillar has succumbed to the wind.

She lays there lost, she is dead alive.


We both wonder when will the storm pass.

She is already seeing the end of her life.

But how to help her fight if she has given up.

It did not pass; the storm is still here.

B. Meza ©5/31/17


About B. Meza

Writing is liberating.
This entry was posted in Poetry, Thoughts about life and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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