Tonight there was a dreadful storm
and I trembled in nervous terror.
So loud the thunder!
So bright the lightening
as it bolted through the darkness of the sky!
I whimpered and buried my tear-streaked face
in the hem of my faded flannel gown.
With each flash and boom, I shuddered!
With each pause in clatter I remembered
Momma’s words as she tucked me safely in bed.
“There have always been storms on this earth,
my dear, yet we all fear a stormy night!
The challenge to fear
lies in answering these questions
as they linger on the edge of your mind:
Would you notice the calm after a storm,
if it didn’t ever storm?
Would you detect the sweet smell of rain,
if it didn’t ever rain?
Would you recognize tranquility
if that’s all you ever saw?”
In deep concentration, my terror subsided;
like the storm outside had done.
I tip-toed down to Momma’s room
to tell her I was no longer afraid.
I knelt by her side and found her asleep,
breathing so effortlessly even.
Through shadows I saw
that she held to her cheek
the hem of her faded flannel gown.
Had Momma been frightened, just like me;
yet bravely she slept through her fear?
With new-found courage, I crept back to bed
and slept to the rhythm of the rain.