Facing a Storm

A razing storm is blowing.
You face it like an oak tree
against its cyclonic speed,
but get uprooted in the end.

Or you bend like a willow,
letting the storm pass over,
again regain your posture,
finding foothold on the soil.

Upheavals come, rattle life.
How to face them? Is it like
a stubborn oak, a lithe willow
or both, balanced, blended?

A.K. Das