This season doesn’t come every year
but it comes at the same time of the year
when it comes, and I know where it comes from
this fire that flares up in the midst of me.
Exhilarating, exhausting, hurtful
blessing, when I am the walking maelstrom
amongst the mostly oblivious, but
some can tell and sorrow, no–don’t sorrow.
Don’t sorrow, this tempest doesn’t own me,
only understand all my sensations
aren’t tethered to it out of season and
this season doesn’t come every year.
Hebrews 6:19 “Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and stedfast…”
THE EXILE OBSERVER 