I did a free write and this is what came out.
Everything starts with I. It’s like there is nothing else to talk about but myself and the wind, the storm, the loss. So much loss. I don’t think I even care about when it will end or why, just that one day there will
be peace and there will be sunshine. There is no stopping it. I know that now there is nothing except the wind in my face and its strength is determined by some unknown weatherman who decides these things. Who decides these things? Not me, that’s for sure. There is a breeze or there is a gale or there is something between the two but there is no rest for the wind now, there is no rest for the wind. Sometimes I think that there is fire and the wind will spread it. The
wind will turn the flames bluer than they have ever been. And there will be snow. And there will be gusts, so much of a gust, and no guts, no guts left for me. Nothing left of me. Windswept, scooped up and carried away on a tail, on a sheet, in a sack, something taken in broad daylight – not in the dead of night.
