The Storm
By Cain Pence
The old Chief gazed out and cracked a weathered smile
The storm was near, the racing clouds within a mile
Anticipation rises, the air becomes tense
The call of action beckons, animals and man can sense
The tribe left him alone to die in peace on a sick bed
As he walked outside, the thick air cleared his tired head
In the distance the dark shadows loom
The noise, the energy, the action, Boom!
Lighting blazes, the thunder crash, the storm surges
Must seek shelter, animals obey the primal urges
Flee and live or stay and die, the bold man ponders
Safety or danger, watch firsthand the wild wonders
The storm brings rain, the rain brings life
Man cannot survive without this natural strife
Let the animals and the children hide
The warrior will not go to safety inside
The wind rushes and the river flash flood
The body reacts and excitement stirs the blood
Drenching the earth and plenishing the soil
Inside the adrenaline starts to boil
Better to die outside than in a covered tent
Return to the ancient wind a life well spent
Let the Spirit claim me with the howling wind
I shall die with Mother Earth, buried by natural medicine
The tribe came to lay him in the ground
They looked far and wide, no body was found
Young warriors cursed and maidens wept
One old woman laughed, remembering how the Chief slept
He was one with nature, returned to dust at peace
Man came from the wind, a good death returns to the breeze