in the face of the ever falling rain,
i have not the words;

in the midst of the constant blowing sand,
i have not the words;

in the burying, smothering storms,
i have not the words;

i am mute and immobile before every onslaught
that pours down and threatens to bury
but for the many hands that are held high
as a shelter over my head, taking the bruising brunt
and warding me from this falling dark
that i might continue to stand –
if only in silence