Member-only story
The Silent Storm
By R. T. Garner
“Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.”
— Helen Keller
The Silent Storm is not just the echoes heard in the night,
It’s the roar of the memories that hold on so tight.
It’s the thunder that echoes within the crowded room,
And the lighting strikes that fragment the gloom.
It’s the winds of ambiguity that never seem to fade,
The many treacherous battles within that can’t be displaced.
And it’s not just the nightmares that come in the dead of night,
But the shadow of stolen memories which clouds the light.
And what of this expression, this burden, “nightmares?”
A shadowy dominion, no solace dares.
Rooted in Old English, it first took flight,
The demon, the mare, who suffocates those in the night.
A spirit that presses on a sleeper’s chest,
Crafting horror that takes one’s rest.
In German lore, it spreads its dread,
From the Old Norse mara to where Slavic tales led.
