I came across this poem by Gregory Orr and wanted to share it here:
Trauma (Storm)
BY GREGORY ORR
Hunkered down, nerve-numb,
in the carnal hut,
the cave of self,
while outside a storm
rages.
Huddled there,
rubbing together
white sticks of
your own ribs,
praying for sparks
in that dark
where tinder is heart,
where tender is not.
Trauma (Storm)
BY GREGORY ORR
Hunkered down, nerve-numb,
in the carnal hut,
the cave of self,
while outside a storm
rages.
Huddled there,
rubbing together
white sticks of
your own ribs,
praying for sparks
in that dark
where tinder is heart,
where tender is not.