The Tornado

I darted down the street, not knowing whether it would find me again.

Everywhere I ran and turned, it chased me, pursued me, exhausted my strength.

Crouching in the corner, it returned.

Wind blew. Debris clanged. A leaf smacked me in the face.

It was here.

Jumping up, I ran away, but it kept pursuit.

Rounding each corner I turned, this monster had a mind of its own.

It could run me over. It could sweep me up. It did neither. It only gave chase.

As I give haste, it overtakes, but never quite reaches me.

When I wait, it closes in, but only enough to make me run again.

I’m not sure what that monstrous mind of this whirling wind wants.

Does it want me? It can have me.

Does it want the streets I flee through? It leaves them unchanged.

The only damage done is to my strength.

What kind of a miraculous, monstrous, mind steers this chasing whirlwind?

It never catches me. It only keeps me moving. It always drives me out of hiding.

It only stops when I move and always moves when I stop.

Relentless pursuit, it drains until my strength is gone.

Defeated by the pursuing tornado, I lie on my back, glaring up toward my would-be captor.

Lumbering high, spanning from ground to cloud, the tornado bent over as if to look back at me.

Amid the dust and through the wind, the thought struck as lightning.

This tornado drove me out of folly, pushed me beyond concern for fear.

It evicted me from my weakness.

Yet, it never harmed me.

And, when my strength returns, I will be stronger than before we met.

Through the flurry and bluster, storm and gloom, I realized one thing must be true:

This tornado loved me.