Snow flurries across my window,
torn from the sky. The remnants of
clouds ripped by ghosts.
Swirls in the snow—I see faces.
Women and children, transparent
in their flight as they thrash against
glass. Dreams come alive.
Turned nightmare by the fury
of a grey sky that rages.
Eyes burn, shallow, but with an intensity
that terrifies me.
And I close my eyes against the storm.
But the rage,
the rage that threatens to rip apart,
seethes and I can see it in my breath.
A fire creeps toward me,
threatens to caress my cheek and take me home.
JKolasch
Jacob Kolasch 