The Eye of the Storm

By Praveena Shivram

He could feel it

The quiet

That held in its clasp

Grains of eternity

Slowly slipping through

The cracks in his fist.

He wished he could

Lose himself

In the embrace of the night

Into dreams that would shelter

The jagged thorn of wakefulness

The crack of an inevitable dawn.

He knew this wasn’t the end

Or beginning

But a pause, a deep breath

Before the next wave of hope

Submerged his heart

In the current of human destiny.

He sat at the table with

Bread and wine

And met the other in

The warmth of dying hunger

The light of casual banter

Holding heavily laden eyes.

Even though he knew it

Was time

For the sun to grace

The morning sky

The night still had to leave

Its imprints in the soul thereby.

Praveena Shivram is a writer and editor based in Chennai. Read her work at praveenashivram.com