Rolls of thunder,
Flashes of lightening,
Torrents unleashed from the heavens.
Hailstones tearing through anything they can.
Wind ripping up anything that’s not nailed down.
Leaning with the wind, fighting to be strong.
Almost bare, no leaves to spare,
Will it end, this painful bend?
The wind dies down,
The skies close up,
The sun comes up, the air is still.
I straighten up, regain my stance.
My roots are strong, they held me fast,
I came out, the storm has passed.
I stand here still, strengthened by strife
My roots dug deep with the raging storm,
And here I stand, proud and strong.
Angela Wambua © 2014