THE SCREAM

The winds howled

Over the marching tides of the water.

They soared like ravens of the night.

Such winds I should not hear.

The water was not rippling but tearing itself apart

as to torment those who watched.

A sea gathers under winds of sorrow.

Always it moved closer.

Where does such hate go?

The water seems to rise as an army

marching to the doom of all who wait at its mercy.

Why do I stand on the beach

to wait for the stroke of the sea?

Why do I watch as the storm continues?

The winds of anger whip around me like snakes

To surround me,

To drown me.

I am choked by the wind

And the water.

They come without hindrance or care.

Then they die in peace.

All that is left is the sorrow of the winds.

It comes from afar.

I hear not the winds but a scream.

It embodies anger, fear, frustration;

I hear it come from the edges of the sea.

I see it come from me.

It is a scream,

My scream.

David Richer Polsdorfer

Norfolk Collegiate School

Nominated by eighth grade teacher Charles E. Cook