Amita Sarjit Ahluwalia writes

THUNDERSTORM PREDICTED

I like thunderstorms
I am like thunder itself these days
Or like a thundercloud
Shot through with electric impulses
Split by rod lightning
Dark yet luminous
Dissolving
Into tears of rain
For no other reason
Than the impulse
Of the season
I do not stop to ask
The why’s  and wherefore’s
Of my actions
Or my being
I am what I am
I do what I do
Like a thunderstorm
I gather, I burst
I dissolve
And then
I am
No more.

O yes!
You can see me
But
You cannot be me

I am either I
Or I am a Thunderstorm

I prefer
Thunderstorm