CHAOS

Wind swelled over the horizon like the breath of a sleeping killer whale.

She snaked over the curve of the earth’s shoulder and raced toward me.

Magnifidesert-sand-dunes-photos-wallpaper-widescreen-429m700ksrcent and exciting, she was beastly large and tremendously powerful.
But from a distance,

I had no idea how very, very big she was.

I believed she posed no threat.

Wind lured me like the seduction of a rebellious young man.

Her glorious shine turned my cheeks pink and my body bronze,

A pampering preparation, a pre-courting ritual.

She lifted the sands and misted me.

Angel dust and sweet perfumes.

 

sandstorm5Wind lurched forward;

I tossed back my head and laughed.

Provocative flirtations.

There was a rumble sound.

A gentle lion’s purr.

Wind barreled onward;

the sound grew into an angry growl.

I was already in love with the rebel;

It was too late for caution.

I believed she posed no threat.

sandstorm4

Wind hastened her speed;

I felt the sands lift from the earth.

Swirls whirled at my feet.

I danced.

Desert rose to greet me.

Lustful whispers fell from sand grains whisking through my hair.

Sand was hot. She stung my body. She penetrated my soul.

Sun cascaded over me.

Sun and Wind and Desert Sand blinded me.

The growl became a roar;

the roar became Thunder.

I believed she posed no threat.

sandstorm2

And then,

I realized I had been wrong.

No, the dance was not mine.

The movements of my body were forced upon me.

Thunder shook me and shuddered me.

I felt it down under my heart, under my bones.

I felt it deep down inside.

Thunder beneath breath.

sandstorm3

Wind and Sand, Desert and Sun and Speed –

they heaved like the breath of an angry whale.

They thrust me onto the ground.

They flung me into the air.

I was turned, spun, slapped and tossed like a plastic shopping bag.

Oh, her threat is real.

No up. No down. No east. No west. No yes. No not.

Where are my feet?

Where is the ground?

Where is the reason?

Black is now white and white is now black.

No! everything is brown

with pockets of color.

Colors that vanish if I dare to look at them directly.

Oh, her threat is real.

sandstorm1

Wind has angry claws that clutch everything in her path –

Debris from the weaker vegetation,

trash from picnickers’ Friday festivities,

And me.

Oh, her threat is real.

I am gasping for air.

I am laboring to stand.

I cannot distinguish me from Desert,

Desert from Debris,

nor Love from Terror.

Oh her threat is real.

The lover, once fetching and tantalizing

now violent.

God damn this storm!

Or God damn me!

Picture credits:
http://www.weatherwizkids.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/sandstorm5.jpg
http://img14.deviantart.net/ce3a/i/2012/169/5/b/sand_storm_by_mospineq-d53y2ex.jpg
https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Qt1yxkrYdYA/maxresdefault.jpg

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