This great unrest, which wells up from within
And threatens to consume me,
Must find expression, must be unleashed.
The rain lashes against the windows
Driven by furious flurries of wind
And the coast is bleak and hostile.
The elements, all powerful and unrelenting
Seem unsympathetic of my inner turmoil,
And I despair of ever finding peace.
But as the storm subsides, and the mist clears
The island rises out of the sea as if by magic,
And my spirit rises with it
Like a phoenix out of the ashes,
And I understand instinctively that I am home,
That Mother Nature has loaned me this resting place.
This refuge, wild and untethered,
Yet protective of its chosen candidates
Bids me be still, for there will be healing.
And I know that for the time being at least,
All will be made well.
By Rosa Montague