Poetry from Michael Robinson

Thunder Night

Michael Robinson (right) and fellow contributor Joan Beebe

It shook the building with a roar,

the darkness matched the violence of the booms. 

While the sound of a tremendous explosion, 


Hide under the bed, I recalled from childhood.

This was no ordinary thunderstorm…

It was a finality to it all. 

All my sins laid out in front of each clap of unforgiveness,

Into the night my sins were like a sideshow. 

You stole, you cursed, and blasphemed, among other sins,

In the middle of the evening and into the night as the clocks blinked,

It was certain that my life would end in the midst of a roaring storm, 

On a Sunday night, while my soul was in a state of panic.

I lit a candle and lay quietly in my bed…

as each drop of rain brought a feeling of forgiveness.