My storm

As I lie waiting alone in my bed
Trains of thoughts circle my head
My mind races with worry and fear
I start to fret as the storm gets near

I say to myself, “Everything will be fine”
It’s not the truth, but it keeps me in line
I feel the storm raging in my soul
The storm arrives and starts its toll

The lightning flashes over the trees
The wind picks up, no longer a breeze
The clouds rumble, the rain starts to fall
The storm continues with no way to stall

I close my eyes, but the storm isn’t a dream
Storms are more than what they may seem
Others only see the rain and not my storm 
They have no idea what’s really my norm.

This isn’t the first storm I’ve had to endure
It will keep on storming until there’s a cure
The dark skies clear when the clouds are gone
A sense of hope and relief are sure to dawn

My storm finally ends as the sun appears
A bright rainbow arrives and calms my fears
Tomorrow could be the day I live without pain
But the forecast is cloudy, with a slight chance of rain.


A poem | by Jason S. Sullivan, 06-25-19


My commentary
This is an old poem that I reworked and expanded. The original was about an approaching thunderstorm. This version is about mental health in the form of a personal storm.

This poem was difficult because I had to treat mental health with the respect it deserves. I didn’t want to trivialize mental health. I wanted to help create awareness around it, and offer a perspective. In my own experiences with mental health, some of it can feel like a thunderstorm.

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