When I began to feel better after a particularly deep and dark depressive episode that lasted months, I began to wonder. During those bleak months, where did the happy Andy hide? Where did he wait until the darkness had moved on? These contemplations inspired me to write this poem. When the storms come (Andy Macleod) I wonder where the birds and butterflies go when the storms come Their fragile delicate wings pulled tight Huddled in hollows through the stormy night And as the storm rages I wonder whether They will ever Fly again on a bright sunny day Do they wonder at the storm As it rages through the dawn Waiting and clinging Hoping it will end Or do they wonder that it will never end And the storm is destined inevitably To one day Throw them completely away To be lost and never to return
Posted on: Wed, 02 Jul 2014 22:50:33 +0000
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