Seen through crying eyes like a blur 

A handdrawn tornado.

The storm. Illustration by Nikila Smith

The sky reeks of the smell of rain.

A hurricane sends winds powerful enough to still the pain in people, yet it focuses on her, a young woman, weeping. It hovers over her place. It stands still. An untouchable hand knocks on her window. It is the arm of a tree tapping. The woman’s weeping has brought forth this storm.

Her longing tells the length of her hair. She’s balled up on her bed, caressing her head. Her sheets are wrinkled from sleep. Before laying, they were so crisp. The storm is trying to change her mood, match her emotions. It is feeding off her energy. Its thunder is like anger. The storm is taking it out on everyone. 


Issues |Art

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