Proof?

It was I who woke that night

while the October rain was falling,

crashing against my panes;

the autumn storms come calling.

 

Burrowed in my blankets;

never caring of its fury;

let it mangle the makings of man

as it sweeps across Missouri.

 

The oak outside my walls

beat my roof in rage,

while the wild winds tried to peel

the shingles from my cage.

 

I closed my eyes to sleep,

but the roar was inside my room,

thundering like a mother’s heart

through her pregnant womb.

 

I cracked an eye to see,  

imagining only to see my pillow,

but instead, I saw the giant’s eye

peering through my window.

 

Lighting flashed just then;

my heart fluttering like a fly.

From my pillowed fort,

I saw anger in the sky.

 

The lighting stabbed the earth,

ending in globes of light;

a curtain of holy fire

banishing the night.

 

Was this judgment?

I asked for proof.

Is this nature

or God knocking on my roof?