“The Quiet Storm”

There’s a quiet storm that’s rumbling, In the bottom of my soul.
From the endless times I stifled self, To maintain my human role.
The subservient veil before my eyes, conceals a face forlorn.
Hidden there in a smile, raining tears all the while,
Masking clouds in the eye of the storm.

There's a cold wind raging through the heart, of the voice that doesn’t matter,
Now it yearns to be heard, if by only one word,
From the fragments of self, torn and tattered.
There’s a quiet storm that silences, the child who wants to play,
Buried deep within denial, left to wither and decay.

The quiet storm is growing, blowing past the fear and shame,
Into an air of confidence, assuredly reclaimed,
With courage found outside of me, my self respect reborn.
I can’t confine the me in me, it’s too long she’s been scorned,
Waiting there to declare my freedom, while I’m caught in the eye of the storm.


COPYRIGHT©2000 BONNIE TORRENTE