NATURE Poem: Fallen From Grace, by Phoebe Harry

On my knees looking towards the storming sky,
begging whatever entity is in charge to change my fate,
I’m howling like a wild animal, sobs being drowned out by the wind,
each cry a desperate plea swallowed by the roaring tempest.

The sky above is an unrelenting maelstrom,
dark clouds swirling with a wrath that seems personal,
and I am left to face the fury alone,
a solitary figure against nature’s overwhelming power.

I heard nothing but the rain pelting onto the ground around me,
a relentless barrage that echoes my inner turmoil,
the droplets merging with my tears,
creating a symphony of grief and unanswered prayers.

A possible prophetic sign that I am destined to walk beside the devil,
to tread a path full of darkness and condemnation,
where every step is marked by the weight of judgment,
where love is a sin, and acceptance is but a distant dream.

To be burned at the stake for my sins—
for whom I love, for everything I am and will continue to be—
seems an ever-looming specter,
a haunting reminder of the harsh judgments cast upon those who deviate.

The storm rages on, indifferent to my pleas,
its winds tearing at the fabric of my hope,
and I am left to confront the bitter truth
of a world that often fails to understand, to embrace.

Yet, amidst the storm’s fury,
I find a flicker of defiant courage,
a resolve to stand firm despite the tempest,
to face the fire and the rain with the strength of my truth.
For even if the heavens are silent,
and the storm shows no mercy,
I will not yield to the darkness,
but instead, I will walk with unwavering resolve,
embracing the path that is mine to forge,
and finding solace in the authenticity of my own heart.