• Tornado sirens whistle in the night.
    I hide in a small room, clutching my mattress.
    Hoping,
    Praying,
    it will be over soon.
    Inside, it is calm.
    But on the outside,
    is another story.
    No one is saying anything,
    too scared.
    The winds are whipping,
    taking the clouds on a violent ride.
    It is like a well played battle.
    Carefully,
    one move at a time.
    It seems slow but the pace is fast.
    I'm trying so hard not to cry.
    In fear that anyone will see.
    I must be strong in hard times like this.
    The wind whips harder,
    faster.
    The storm is near.
    I try to make myself shrink.
    Pretending to be in another place.
    Somewhere other than here.
    It doesn't work,
    when I so hope and wish that it did.
    This is the worst part of the night.
    It only lasts moments, but enough to break my heart.
    The tornado leaves my home,
    and the winds die down.
    Papers stop flying,
    Desks stop shaking.
    Everything stops.
    All is eerie and calm.
    I slowly let go of the mattress.
    Is it over?
    I stand up, and brace myself for what's to come.
    I don't know where my family is.
    The storm isn't the worst part.
    The worst part is after.
    Because you don't know what is to come.
    Or what has
    truly
    just happened.
    Set into motion.
    This is no Oz.