Prose Poetry: Tornado Sky

A short one.

A storm roils overhead, gray clouds swirling green and then a deep violet- black. There is nothing here. A field, flatter than a pancake rolls far and away for miles. A thin highway snakes across the plain into the clouded horizon. Alongside it, the train tracks are embedded in the earth, iron lines calling and calling to my blood and I feel like I might never get home. Like there was something I was supposed to do here, all this time, and instead I simply waited, and the earth grew new around me, and then old, and it rose up and flattened out and I’m still here, grown old and new with it. The sky darkens, the clouds churn, restless, and god can be tasted in the surging air. Lightning sparks in the distance, fingers of electricity crackle through the air, finding a target. This is a tornado sky, a twisting, angry thing, sending funneled tongues out like it’s testing the air. Like it’s trying to find the best place to touch down and rip this flat earth apart. It will rip me apart too, if I stay here. But there is nowhere else to go, has never been anywhere else to go, and I am tired of running from tornadoes.

I was supposed to meet you here, a long, long time ago.

 

Dimmitt_Tornado1_-_NOAA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Comments
4 Responses to “Prose Poetry: Tornado Sky”
  1. I have only seen tornadoes in dreams (more like nightmares). If ,y home was at the other end of the road and there were tornadoes in the middle….I would never get home. I would quickly tire of running from them, I know. IF I was seeing tornadoes on a regular basis, I would have to move somewhere else…somewhere that would be (hopefully) less turbulent. 😉

    • Tornadoes definitely represent turbulence in most of my dreams. Though sometimes, they create a sort of silent vacuum and the dream becomes sort of peaceful despite the danger.

      Thanks for the comment 🙂

  2. Reblogged this on The LoLo Project and commented:
    Wow a tasteful touch to such a fascinating science

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