Some storms

Last night there were violent protests all over France (govt reform of the retirement pension regime) and an electric storm travelled across our area. As often happens, it followed the Garonne at a furious rate, and we only saw sheet lightning, very briefly.
This morning, the Oracle gave me this poem that I find disturbing and shall probably go back to her later, check that she’s feeling better.

Some storms

My storm is the one you should run from,
the one you watch to make sure it doesn’t boil,

but even a mother is not only milk of human kindness,
she will walk, treading fierce in the footsteps of the lost

to the shore, and when the storm breaks, it will not be
madness that draws up the sea in a roaring mantle of fury,

but the mother’s despair and the child’s blank eyes that
cradle this world in spent arms and put time to sleep.