Lightning Bolt
Courtesy Lori Lane, The End in Mind

Fastened, held by standing in the storm
The bolt white hot the power to deform
Deafened and made all his hair stand straight
Somehow no malevolence or hate

Like this, he thought, to death we ought to go
Feel electrons through the torso go
Blinded by the discharge, overcome
Incapable of any speech, struck dumb

He was alive, a fleshy wick was all
Around him was a fire like a wall
Pummeled by concussion, battered, shaken
Abandoned by the world but not forsaken

Stung by whippings of the snapping fire
And then released—the passing by rose higher—
The same the burning Risen Christ returns
A justice in which all the planet burns