Storms and lightnings hurt like a heartache,
It will never be silent, it will always be slumped.
Once the rain passed,
the glass-cracked roads remained.
My soul dreamed about growing peace where my mind was maimed.
With sticks and stones as flowers without thorns.
It never mattered to me,
And in the end, it didn’t matter to him.
After all was said and done,
The town cheered for the sun to come,
But I won’t ever know how to exist until the next thunderstorm.
Analysis & Reflection:
This piece is a meditation on memory, trauma, perception, and the complexity of human emotion. On its surface, it describes a literal storm (lightning, rain, and the aftermath) but beneath that, the storm serves as a metaphor for periods of intense emotional upheaval, particularly heartbreak. The opening line, “Storms and lightnings hurt like a heartache,” sets the tone: this is about emotional pain so vivid that it resonates physically, a storm inside as much as outside.
“It will never be silent, it will always be slumped” conveys the lingering weight of that emotional turbulence. Even after the storm has passed, the speaker cannot rest; the turmoil remains, slumped and permanent. The “glass-cracked roads” that remain after the rain symbolize the visible and lasting marks left by these experiences; scars, residual trauma, and memories etched into the psyche.
The poem then turns inward. “My soul dreamed about growing peace where my mind was maimed” reflects the struggle to cultivate healing and serenity within a mind that has been broken by past pain. This is an image of fragile hope: trying to grow flowers in a shattered pot, to create peace where trauma has taken root.
The line “With sticks and stones as flowers without thorns” deepens this idea. Sticks and stones evoke harm, violence, or emotional damage, yet the speaker’s mind reframes them as harmless, like flowers without thorns. This represents the distorted perception of trauma: the mind tries to make sense of violence or pain by interpreting it as something tolerable or even beautiful, even when it is not.
The following lines, “It never mattered to me / And in the end, it didn’t matter to him,” illuminate a crucial tension. The speaker’s inability—or perhaps learned coping mechanism—to recognize the pain contrasts with the other person’s indifference. One side does not see the violence, while the other does not acknowledge it. Both are trapped in misperception, highlighting the emotional dissonance that comes from trauma and misaligned understanding.
The poem then broadens to the external world: “After all was said and done, the town cheered for the sun to come.” Friends, society, and observers celebrate the end of the relationship, assuming it brings relief. They expect the speaker to feel liberated, to move on, to bask in sunlight after the storm. Yet the speaker cannot inhabit that calm. “But I won’t ever know how to exist until the next thunderstorm” captures this profound truth: the speaker’s sense of self and vitality is inseparable from intensity, chaos, and emotional turbulence. Calm and conventional healing feel suffocating because the storm is familiar, and its absence leaves a vacuum where identity feels unmoored.
This ending encapsulates a cycle of trauma and learned patterns. While healing is possible, the speaker’s understanding of love, connection, and intensity has been shaped by past experiences. The “next thunderstorm” is both inevitable and necessary, it is the environment in which the speaker truly recognizes themselves, even if it perpetuates patterns of emotional turbulence.
Ultimately, “Thunderstorm” is both a reflection and a confession by the author: a younger self’s struggle to navigate heartbreak, trauma, and misperception. It captures the beauty and danger of emotional intensity while acknowledging the lasting scars that shape our perception of love and existence. Reading it alongside this analysis allows the audience to see not just the words, but the lived experience and artistry behind them; a glimpse into the mind and heart of someone learning to grow through chaos, and eventually, to heal.