The Storm

Lucien R. Starchild

The sky splits open— 
A wound of light, jagged and sudden. 
The air hums with the weight of it, 
The way the world holds its breath 
Before the breaking. 

Wind tears through the trees, 
Not like a whisper but a scream, 
Bending what will bend, 
Shattering what won’t. 
Branches become kindling, 
Leaves scatter like frightened birds.   

The rain comes hard, 
Needles of silver piercing the earth. 
It does not ask permission. 
It does not care for mercy. 
It only falls, relentless, 
Until the ground surrenders, 
Until the rivers swell with the violence of it. 

And yet— 
After the thunder, after the chaos, 
The air is sharp with green, 
With the scent of wet soil and new beginnings. 
The storm is not cruel, not kind— 
Only inevitable. 

It is the world’s way of remaking itself: 
Beauty and ruin, 
The same hand that destroys 
Also opens the earth 
And lets life rise again.

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Lucien R. Starchild
Lucien R. Starchild is an Indigenous, enigmatic poet/writer and cosmic dreamer, weaving tales that blur the line between reality and the surreal. Born under a wandering star, he draws inspiration from forgotten myths, celestial whispers and the hidden magic of everyday life. He has been published in Piker Press, Tales from the Moonlit Path, Festival for Poetry, Ink Without Borders, Flash Phantoms and the Eunoia Review.