Shelter

A wildness lives in the world.
No fort provides
perennial protection.
We all feel the wild sometimes.

When the winds of loss and grief howl
do the walls creak and moan and hold
against the rush?

When the rain of disappointment floods down
and the river seeks to pull you under
what fortress do you run to?

All castles have cracks.
When the cold air of loneliness
creeps in and whips around your ankles
do you have a blanket
in your own closet
to throw over your shoulders
as you shudder?

Are you willing to leave your refuge
when the sun of possibility shines or
do you cower and wait for the rain?

We all feel the wild sometimes.
What shelter do you have?