The sky deep purple swells
as this night bruised by lightning
burns on the back of my eyelids
shutters this heart’s frail valves
and grinds soul against bone.

Beyond this thunderstorm,
unknown horses flee the booming
pasture lost behind a charcoal curtain
and giant mountains with legs
anchored deep in the glistening sea.

Tonight’s thunderstorm strikes me
mute and blind, scared as Saul
on the sacred road to Damascus and I wonder,
I wonder if God had spoken to me just now,
called upon me to suffer his name,
would I be the one who listened?

©Scott Dewing